


The Phantom of the Universal Palace: An HHN Retelling of "The Phantom of the Opera"

by katyhorrorpictureshow



Series: Carey Chronicles [1]
Category: HHN - Fandom, Halloween Horror Nights at Universal Studios
Genre: Alternate Universe - Phantom of the Opera Fusion, Attempted Murder, Canon-Typical Violence, Community Theatre, Costume Parties & Masquerades, F/M, Flashbacks, Ghosts, HHN Icons, Hallucinations, Horror movie references, Legendary Truth, Murder Mystery, References to other HHN houses and scarezones, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Songfic (Sort of), Stalking, Unrequited Love, Yandere character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 14:19:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 56,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17664266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katyhorrorpictureshow/pseuds/katyhorrorpictureshow
Summary: A community theatre in Carey, Ohio is about to perform a play inspired by one of Carey's most infamous ghost stories: the story of the Usher and the movie theater he haunts, the Universal Palace Theater. The play's leading lady, the daughter of a paranormal investigator who once went missing in the Palace, becomes both the victim and obsession of the cinema-obsessed Phantom and discovers that the events of the play start to mirror those of her own life...Prequel to “Demons Among Us.”





	1. Overture: The Investigation Begins

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story I've been wanting to write for the longest time, and now I've finally made some progress! Since Julian is HHN's own Phantom of the Opera, I wanted to explore more of his backstory as well as the mystery and intrigue behind the Universal Palace Theater. I wondered, "What if something just like the events of Phantom happened in Carey?" and I came up with this. I'm having a lot of fun writing this so far so I hope you'll enjoy this, too!
> 
> Just a heads up: This story contains scenes of a violent nature, sometimes told in graphic detail, as this is a Halloween _Horror _Nights fic. Julian is written as close to character as possible, so he might be... uh... overly creepy at times. Please keep this in mind if you decide to read.__
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own The Usher/Julian Browning, the Universal Palace Theater, and Legendary Truth! They're all owned by Universal Studios Orlando and the creative people behind Halloween Horror Nights. I only own my original characters!

**AUGUST 2019**

Carey, Ohio is a town of many hauntings. Charged for many years by the supernatural and the demons among them, most think twice of dismissing the stories and legends that have become twisted tradition. The Icons, such as the infamous Jack the Clown, and the Caretaker, Dr. Albert Caine, have brought fear and terror to Carey for many years, but recently, their reign had dissipated just as much as the shadows they've fallen into. Carey still remained vulnerable to the undead creatures and spirits that had no place to call home after the great War of the Living Dead that nearly wiped out the entirety of the town's population. To this day, shops remain empty and homes are kept dormant, but for the hopeless romantics and thrill-seekers who travel to Carey in search of the stories, one certain locale remains open for business in the almost hundred years she's been running: a movie theater.

A gem amidst the dust and cobwebs and fallen grandeur, the Universal Palace Theater is a remnant of glitzy times past, back when people attended showings of black-and-white movies dressed in their Sunday best and respected cinema just as much as any other art form. Although the mouth-watering aromas of buttery popcorn and sugary soft drinks still permeate through the theater's auditoriums, an ominous undercurrent of revenge still creeps over the Palace. Whenever people walk by her late at night, they swore a chill crept up behind them and followed them down the sidewalk, a precautionary wind to keep them away. If one listened closely, cries and screams rattled the maroon-and-gold Art Deco-styled doors, and a blinding beam of light emanated from behind the glass, sometimes illuminating the faint beginnings of a face. The Universal Palace sure was a looker, but the stories of patrons killed for their misdeeds and enraging the monsters ripped from the silver screen transformed her into a vengeful creature out for blood.

Or so the stories say.

The Phantom of the Universal Palace is just as real as any other spirit that calls Carey home. Pale, gaunt, and scrawny, he lurks within the aisles and catwalks leftover from the Palace's opera house days, caring for the theater just as he did back in the Roaring Twenties. To some, he is known simply by a title - The Usher, for that is who he is: the Universal Palace's most devoted Usher, even in death and beyond. Most who claim to have seen the Phantom in the Palace's on-and-off decades of operation blame him for the empty nooses swinging high in the rafters or the bloodstains embedded in the carpeting. Others have different stories of when they encountered the Phantom, however... gruesome tales of how he'd dispose of patrons who dared to break the theater's rules.

"If the stench of death hits your nostrils and the room's temperature suddenly drops," warned one spectator to the Phantom's reign of terror who prefers to remain anonymous, "run as if the devil's chasing after you. He may be slow, but he will find you, and you will hang just as all the others have."

Back in September 2009, members of Legendary Truth's Spirit Seekers thoroughly investigated the theater to confront the Phantom. The tragic death of Steven Brody, one of the division's most renowned investigators, quickly put a halt to this project. Odd pieces of evidence the Phantom left behind in his wake, such as severed children's toys and ripped meal combo advertisements, weren't of much help to the Seekers. Dozens of witnesses to the Phantom's terror such as James Ward, former manager of the Palace, and Helen Dean, the star of popular B-movie flick _Amazon Cannibals from Planet Hell_ , refused to provide any information. It was as if their memories had been permanently wiped of their recollections of the Phantom, or perhaps, as the anonymous interviewee said, his reign of terror should be at best forgotten forever.

One interviewee, however, has inspired the Spirit Seekers to reopen their investigation almost ten years later, when the Phantom was once again spotted stringing up the corpse of a smack-talking patron by a member of the team. Katharine Brody found herself in the center of the spider's web when she starred in the aptly entitled Simon Brooks play  _The Phantom of the Universal Palace_ before the Palace closed in October 2010. As the daughter of Steven Brody, Katharine is no stranger to ghosts and the undead. Unlike the youths who join the Zombie Awareness Program and bravely risk their lives to protect Carey from the undead, the twenty-nine-year-old former actress prefers to work in the shadows, using her experience as the Phantom's cherished victim to help others survive the wrath of the undead.

"I'm not sure how to feel," Brody said before she began telling her story to investigator John Michaels. "I don't know if I feel guilt or relief... remorse or..." She trembled as she added, "Vengeance... but all I can really tell you is that Julian Browning is out for blood, and he will use whatever means possible to ensure people follow his rules."

Most interpret the story of the Universal Palace and its Phantom as a warning to never mess with a ghost's resting place, but Brody views her experiences in an entirely different light. To this day, she says, the ghosts of the Phantom's victims still cry for their freedom at the hands of the spirit who killed them long ago. Even she, although free from the Usher's grasp for almost ten years, is always drawn back to the Universal Palace every Halloween, searching for the ghost who both felt admiration and animosity for her. It may be an ironic series of unfortunate events, but the matter of Katharine Brody's stories have proven that the Phantom of the Universal Palace is no myth or legend.

The answers only lay in wait for whoever is brave enough to bring them to light...


	2. There Really Is a Phantom

**JULY 2010**

The meeting began in total darkness. A projection screen, the only source of light in the Carey Repertory's rather small boardroom, displayed a PowerPoint slide that read one word: "Phantom." No one who entered the room knew what the word possibly referenced.  _Maybe it's the title of the Rep's newest production,_ thought some. _Maybe it's calling out the many spirits that made Carey their home,_  assumed others. The undead's hold over Carey had strengthened in recent months, with only the small but growing Zombie Awareness Program to stop them. Barely anyone left their houses in fear that they'd be bitten by a wandering zombie straggling through the streets, and enjoying films and theatre for leisure became a thing of the past. Now, Carey's citizens took their time gathering essentials needed to survive the impending zombie apocalypse that Lord Adaru, the overlord of Fear, and his five heralds, the Icons, had planned over the past twenty years. The small Ohio town had always been like this - haunted, cursed, doomed. Any adjective that defined a disaster beyond one's wildest imagination perfectly defined Carey.

Enter Mr. Simon Brooks, the Rep's Managing Director. Simon enjoyed making others happy during the darkest of times, but his attempts were often out of place when it came to distracting others from their personal problems. Timothy Reynolds, mayor of Carey, even advised Simon during their annual budget meeting that performing plays and musicals in these dire times wasn't a very good idea.

"People need to focus more on banding together as a community to endure these troubled times," Timothy told him. "We can't worry about mocking the dead when they'll be slaughtering us!"

"Then what if we perform a play that will bring hope to light?" Simon proposed. "If someone tries to both delight and reassure people that fear is not something… or in this case, _someone_ to succumb to, then it'll inspire more of Carey to make a change instead of waiting to die!"

"You've said that with countless other ventures, Mr. Brooks." Timothy leaned back in his chair. "I'll admit, I'm rather fond of the past shows you've put on. Creatures: The Musical, The Doo-Wop Tragedy of Hollywood High. All of those have been fine plays. But what makes you think your new play will inspire the people of Carey to fight back against the relentless undead?"

Simon merely smiled at the mayor like a child sheepishly convincing their parents to buy a new toy. "Do you like movies, Mr. Reynolds?"

"Just as much as anyone else does," Timothy replied, perplexed by Brooks' question. "But that damn movie theater on East Main's been haunted since... well... forever. No one goes there anymore."

"Then that's exactly it!” Simon clapped his dark hands together. “My colleague is currently writing a wonderful play that will get people out of their houses and make them aware of the ghosts that have been plaguing that theater. I think it's one step closer toward wiping out all the undead in Carey!"

Timothy stared at Simon as if he was delusional. "That's preposterous. What makes you think people want to see a play about what's threatening their lives?"

"Oh, just you wait, Mr. Reynolds. It takes a village to bring change to those who most deserve it, after all!”

* * *

Simon waited behind the curtains, huddling in his store-bought Dracula cape as _Phantom of the Opera_ -esque organ music played from the laptop of his colleague and writer of the play, Rebecca Scieszka. Although he felt a small pinch of doubt - does anyone even want to participate in a play like this? - Simon knew the Rep's final play (for now) could potentially bring great success to the company. Over the past fifty years, they've told Carey's most infamous ghost stories, resurrecting them from the dead for audiences to enjoy. The Phantom of the Universal Palace wouldn't be any different. This tragic tale with a dash of romance and a slice of horror might make them thousands in the long run.

"All right, Simon!" Simon adjusted the white Phantom mask on his face as he peered through the curtains. Fifty or so attendees sat in the audience, awkwardly checking their phones or watches as they waited for the meeting to begin. "Let's get this show on the road!"

Taking advantage of the dark boardroom, Simon crept to the podium at center stage and tapped a meaty finger against the microphone. The feedback screeched loudly across the boardroom, making some people in the audience groan as if knives had been shoved deep into their ear canals.

“Sorry about that, ladies and gentlemen! I didn’t mean to frighten any of you. Not yet, anyway!” Simon cleared his throat as the audience chuckled. “Now then. I suppose we all know the story of The Phantom of the Opera? If not, I’ll be kind enough to give you a refresher. An ingénue soprano receives lessons from a mysterious, masked teacher, but his infatuation for her later brings chaos and devastation to the opera house and its company. A classic horror tale, yes?”

A few attendees nodded.

“Then I see we’re already up to speed! The audiences crave a good horror tale. It is why we at the Carey Repertory Theatre have chosen The Phantom of the Opera to be our newest play for our upcoming... and unfortunately final, but just until this storm passes over, season!" The lights flickered on, revealing Simon in all his faux Phantom glory, his arms raised as he laughed deep and gleefully, a pathetic attempt at an evil laugh. 

Two best friends sat giggling at the rear of the audience. Katharine Brody and Lacey Broussard, junior-year students at Carey University, had never participated in a Rep production before. With Lacey being an aspiring dance teacher and Katharine an actress, "Phantom" would be like dipping their toes into a chilly lake - tedious and frightening at first, but they'd be quick to warm up once they got used to the tense atmosphere.

"You think you’ll audition for Christine?" Lacey whispered in Katharine’s ear.

"Christine, me?" Katharine shook her head. "I don't think so. I can't wail a cadenza to save my life. If anything, Sierra's probably gonna get it.”

They both glanced over in dismay at Sierra Chastain, the Rep's bubbly child star turned leading lady. Sierra just performed in a production of _Grease_ , starring as Sandy Dumbrowski, the coveted female lead. They both attended the show and agreed that hearing Sierra sing was like listening to a cat mewl as it choked to death on its own hairball.

“You know Sierra can’t hold a tune to save herself!” Lacey wrinkled her nose in disgust. “They just cast her in every show since her father hands out money to them like it’s candy.”

“All right, everyone.” Simon held out his hands to silence the audience. “Our production will play host to new challenges for our company. To make our play as unique and immersive as possible, we’ve decided to scrap performing the Andrew Lloyd Webber version and instead take a different approach to the story.”

The surprise immediately dampened the attitudes of a few attendees. Some gasped, some groaned, and there was even a cry of "I wanted to be Christine!" from Sierra.

“Yes, I know.” Simon set his mask and cape aside on the podium. “A lot of you expected that we’d do the musical, but alas, that’s not the case. But I promise you all, the Phantom story we’ve decided to adapt will be just as memorable as Lloyd Webber’s. Rebecca, if you would?"

Simon gestured for Rebecca to change the PowerPoint slide. Via a corny fade transition, a scratchy, sepia-toned photograph of an old-fashioned movie palace appeared on the screen, much to the “Ooh!” and “Aah!” and the distant “What is that?” in the audience.

Katharine's arms broke out in goosebumps. Selling popcorn and ripping ticket stubs may have been her part-time job, but she certainly knew of the Universal Palace Theater's ghostly guardian with an insatiable thirst for blood and revenge. It wasn't every day when you cleaned the aisles and found a severed limb in between the seats, or even an entire corpse jammed in the stairway. Most people were oblivious to the Phantom's power, only putting two and two together when their cell phone clattered to the floor and police swarmed the lobby with rolls of crime scene tape and a body bag in their arms.

“This fall, the Universal Palace Theater will hold its newest feature presentation, the first time a live production has been performed at the Palace since the early twentieth century… before the Palace even became a movie theater! Now, I know just what all of you are thinking. Isn’t the theater haunted?” Simon shrugged. “Last time I checked, someone might’ve died in a horrendous freak accident last year, but that’s all I know!”

“No,” Katharine murmured under her breath. “The last time someone died, it was _two weeks ago._ ” She shuddered, recalling when she went to scrub away some grime that formed on the edge of one of the screens. It wasn’t the crusty, nearly-impossible-to-wash-off mess that horrified her, but rather the corpse of a man who texted briefly during the movie hanging from a noose situated in the rafters above the screen. The Phantom showed no mercy to those who disrespected his theater, and he made sure to remind Katharine whenever anyone doubted his presence. She warned people to put away their phones and to not talk during the movie, but no one ever listened. The Phantom and his swift form of revenge made her give up trying.

“Katharine, what’s the matter?” Lacey asked her as Simon began to excitedly explain the Palace’s history – “Opened in 1922, closed in 1940, and a bunch of murders happened while we’re at it!”

“I’m fine.” Katharine sighed. “It’s just… you know…”

“Oh… It’s because of _him_ , isn’t it?”

Katharine rose to her feet and tucked her portfolio under her arm. “I’m heading to the restroom. Come with me.”

As Katharine and Lacey made their escape, Simon's richly enunciated voice echoed across the hallway as he told the story of the Palace's most devoted Usher and his love for cinema, especially horror movies such as, ironically enough, _The Phantom of the Opera_ , starring the Man of a Thousand Faces, Lon Chaney, Sr. 

“After an embarrassing altercation involving a ripped screen and his flashlight, the Usher hanged himself to death, with no one to save him. Such a pity that Julian Browning died alone, and in the most tragic of ways… suicide, I’m afraid. With all the mystery and murder surrounding the Universal Palace Theater, Browning has become Carey’s own Phantom of the Opera. All who dare to desecrate the Universal Palace and her purity will mercilessly suffer at the hands of his vengeance, hanging forever by the rope that ended his own life."

"He doesn't know the real story." Katharine pushed the restroom door shut. "They don't know what they're getting themselves into!"

“People always take the stories out of context, don’t they?” Lacey asked her, leaning against the cream-and-teal tiled wall.

“They always do. But just wait until _he_ hears about this. Watch, first he’ll get the lighting crew. Then the set designers. Then Mr. Brooks… and maybe even us! You’ve never seen him in person, Lacey. You’ve never seen him string up some guy who had to send a quick text to his wife to tell her he’d be home within the hour!”

"I... can't say I have, Katharine." 

"Let me tell you what it's like." Katharine began pacing up and down the stalls. "When he's around, you don't see him at first. The smell of death lingers in the air. Then the air around you grows cold. You feel your heart plummet to your stomach, and then he materializes in the blink of an eye.”

“What does he look like?”

“I’ve never seen his face. But people tell me he’s got bruised up eyes, blue lips… one of his eyes is fogged up. The laceration from the noose is still around his neck. He still wears his uniform, like the ones they force us to wear. And God forbid you show up at the last screening of the night. That’s when he’s the most active. We try to stop people on their phones before he does… he hates light. I’ve seen the blood.” Katharine took Lacey’s hands in hers. “I’ve heard the screams. He frightens me!”

"Shh, Katharine, it'll be all right." Lacey rose _en pointe_ to Katharine's level and clasped a hand on her shoulder. "It'll be okay. Wasn't Legendary Truth doing an investigation on the Palace a while ago?"

Katharine looked away, her eyes misting over. "They were until my father disappeared. Now they don't even want to step foot in there."

Katharine still owned the audiotape her father recorded while he explored the Palace; it was the only piece of evidence Legendary Truth's Spirit Seekers division managed to get ahold of during their initial investigation. She listened to it from time to time, to try and piece together what happened that fateful September evening. Her father - Steven Brody - wandered through the lobby with the delight of a curious schoolboy, explicitly describing his surroundings. "Dark, musty, stale." None of that changed, that was for sure. In fact, Katharine thought, the Palace has only gotten dirtier and seedier despite the recent renovation.

Once Steven entered the Palace's biggest, grandest auditorium, something unexplainable occurred. The theater had been closed down ("permanently", though that didn't last very long) during his exploration, so to see the screen suddenly burst with a cartoon of dancing concessions gave him quite the fright. If Katharine listened carefully, she sometimes heard an animalistic growl and a sardonic laugh in the background, the voices of a man with a wolfish curse and a doll brought back to life, as they surrounded her father and presumably mauled him to death.

And then... _he_ spoke, the one who summoned all those movie monsters. The flashlight he always carried in his gloved hands gave him a great power - the ability to rip monsters directly from the silver screen.  Katharine always turned off the tape just as he began to speak; she couldn't bear to hear that lilting voice of his that haunted her mind and at the same time sounded oddly familiar to her. 

“Ladies?” the Repertory’s elderly secretary, Elsa, timidly pushed open the restroom door a crack. “Is everything all right?”

"Oh, sorry, Ms. Strict." Katharine gave her a small smile. "I just get uneasy at the mention of murder."

"That's all right." Elsa adjusted her wide-rimmed spectacles a bit hesitantly. "I believe audition scheduling is open now, so you two better get a move on."

Katharine and Lacey followed Elsa back to the boardroom. The PowerPoint had ended and the audience members now hovered over tables where many sign-up sheets lay - a few requesting for crew members, a few requesting for each role that needed to be filled. Giggling girls were already scribbling their names on the paper for what Katharine assumed was the female lead, the Christine of this new Phantom story. 

"Evelyn Crane?" Katharine overheard Sierra squawk in disgust. "Who the hell is that?"

"Evelyn Crane!" Katharine turned back to Lacey, a smile beaming on her face. She admired Evelyn since childhood, watching her films on nearly broken VHS tapes her father salvaged from the local thrift shop. "She's my favorite actress!"

“Then what are you waiting for?” Lacey whispered. “Do it!”

Underneath Evelyn's name was a note mentioning she'd be singing selections from her brief career as a jazz songstress in the late 1920s, as well as an operatic aria from what Katharine believed to be her greatest film, 1945's _The Dark Chapter_ , in which Evelyn portrayed a Miss Havisham sort of character confined to a haunted manor. The starlet of Silver Crypt Studios inspired her to get into theatre and pursue a degree in Acting. In her many films where she played damsels in distress or alluring temptresses, Katharine was spellbound by Evelyn's subtle gestures - an arch of her eyebrow, a glint in her brown eyes - and the ways she'd transform herself to make herself nearly unrecognizable. She wanted to learn that art of transcendence, the sheer magic of leaving behind your identity to assume another.

"All right, there." Katharine signed her name and set down the pen. "Evelyn Crane… I wonder what her connection to the Palace is?”

“She was the Christine Daae to Julian’s Phantom.”

A woman's Brooklyn-accented voice brought Katharine and Lacey to attention. Rebecca, who also happened to be the Artistic Director of the Rep with an obsession for overly red lipstick and sappy proclamations of love, fumbled with the baggy sleeves of her _Starlight Express_ sweatshirt behind the table, her gaze pinned on Katharine and Lacey.

"How so?” Lacey asked her.

"She had the voice, she had the ingenuity act down pat... but there was also a dark side to her." Rebecca took a sip from her blue mug labeled 'Actor Tears' before continuing her story. "She always played hard to get. Stone cold, in a way. Some say her heart melted upon the mention of Julian's name. Others vow she thought of him as her stalker, that she was frightened literally to death of him. Either way, her life ended at the Universal Palace, and no one's ever figured out why. Couldn't really find anything while doing my research."

“I didn’t know that,” Katharine remarked. 

"Of course, we have to take artistic licenses. It's hard to pin down accuracy when Carey's own history is shrouded in mystery." Rebecca glanced down at the sign-up sheet, and then back up at Katharine. "So, Ms. Brody, you're the last person we'll be seeing for Evelyn auditions! Lucky you." She ripped the sheet out of the clipboard and shoved it into her binder. “I ain’t kidding when I say there’s a lot to Evelyn’s role than some may think. Evelyn’s downfall is a tough pill to swallow." She lowered her voice to a murmur. "We might even be getting ourselves in trouble with this.”

“Trouble?” Katharine raised a concerned eyebrow. "How?"

“I should mention something.” Rebecca leaned over the table, staring straight into Katharine's brown eyes. “If what we found out is true, then Evelyn didn’t exactly die. It’s a bit complicated and involves some, uh, spiritual stuff. But I don’t want to spoil it!”

“Well, I can’t wait to hear it.” Katharine handed Rebecca her pen. “I’m a huge horror fanatic! Doing a play like this has been on my bucket list for the longest time—“

“Please.” Rebecca silenced Katharine with a wave of her hand. “I’ve heard the same spiel about five times already. Save it for later, will you?”

Katharine nodded, mumbling a “Thanks for your time” in reply as Rebecca gathered her belongings and stormed off. She never heard anything about Evelyn from the Palace's employees. In fact, they all pretended as if she never existed, all except for the faded photograph that hung near the breakroom door of a dark-haired actress with heavily shaded eyes and pouty lips. The plaque underneath it read, "Evelyn Crane - Renowned Star of the Silver Screen." Katharine simply thought it was just for decoration, a way to celebrate the Palace's history of hosting movie stars from the bygone days, but the ghosting of lips she occasionally saw imprinted on the glass convinced her otherwise.

_She was his Christine…_

“Katharine?” Lacey waved a hand in front of Katharine’s face. “Hey! Is your mind in the clouds?"

“Sorry.” Katharine draped a hand over her aching forehead. “I guess you could say that."

“Katharine, I told you not to worry about a thing. Just as long as Mr. Brooks and Ms. Scieszka honor the dead and show them respect, everything will be fine. And besides…" Lacey gave her a soft, reassuring smile. "It’s only a play!"

"I hope so. I know I'm going to regret—"

"Katharine, watch out!"

Katharine accidentally stumbled into a young man emerging from an office on the other side of the hallway. Their collision sent her portfolio full of sheet music crashing down to the floor, setting sheets of paper and Post-It Notes free.

"Shit!" Katharine swept down to her knees and began collecting up her papers, trying not to keep her sight on the man. "Dang it, now everything's out of order!"

"Hey, uh, I'm sorry." The man spoke in a sweet, slightly insecure tone, like that of a dashing hero, as he bent down and helped Katharine collect her papers. "I didn't know how to get out of this place so I was gonna ask—"

"Oh, don't worry." Katharine opened her portfolio and stashed her papers in the folders. " _I_ should be the one that's apologizing. I wasn't watching where I was going—"

The two then locked eyes. The soft look in the man's blue eyes reminded Katharine of many summers ago as she waited behind the curtains of the Hawthorn Theatre for her cue to enter the stage as the narrator of _Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat_. Nerves plagued her - what if she messed up a line? Her _first_ line?

"It'll be okay, Katharine," the then-sixteen-year-old Reid Segal advised her. "Just remember... some folks dream... some folks dream..."

"Reid!" Katharine jumped into Reid’s open arms, nearly knocking him down to the floor. "Oh my God, where’ve you been?”

"Everywhere and nowhere," Reid, now twenty-two, said with a chuckle. "I was out doing some regional shows for a while, but I needed a break. So, I came back to good ol’ Carey to see what's been going on."

"Ooh, what've you been in?" Katharine asked excitedly. "Any of our favorites?"

"Hmm..." Reid clicked his tongue. "I was a swing in Cats for a bit. Got to go on as Mistoffelees once or twice. Oh! And I was in Les Mis, too. The guy who played Enjolras was out for a whole month, so I got to cover him. It was fun being out on the barricade."

Katharine looked over her shoulder to see Lacey stifling giggles underneath her hand. She certainly knew a thing or two about Katharine's admiration of Reid, especially how she often gushed over the memory of him holding her hand at the _Joseph_ wrap party. Back then, Reid Segal had a bright future ahead of him, already showing potential to be the next Anthony Hope in Sweeney Todd or Fiyero in Wicked. He hadn't been cast as Jesus for no reason. Most of the Hawthorn Theatre Summer Camp girls, including a certain Sierra Chastain, flocked to him, vying to be his leading lady. It helped that he had good looks, too - blonde hair, blue eyes, and a smattering of freckles across his nose. So for Reid to hold Katharine's hand felt like a once in a lifetime opportunity to her.

"So, you mentioned a break," Katharine then said, "but was the final Carey Rep play too good to pass up?"

"I didn't know it was in the plans, actually. But I'm all in for a ghost story, especially a historical one.” Reid placed the last fledgling sheet into Katharine’s portfolio and snapped the rings shut for her. “You auditioning?"

"For Evelyn. What about you?"

"The Phantom himself. Julian, I think his name is?"

“Oh, cool.” Katharine's blood thinned upon the mention of the Ghost’s real name. “Knowing you, I thought you'd audition for whoever the Raoul character's gonna be."

"Norman Edwards? Nah. The hero stuff gets old after a while. I thought I'd spice things up and try for the villain!"

"I don't think you've ever played a villain like, ever. I think you'd look good in all that ghastly makeup!"

"You think? Ever since I got back here, I lost my tan. They wouldn't have to do much." Reid shuffled around, propping his hand against the beige, wallpapered wall. "To be honest, I'm totally surprised you aren't going for the ensemble like you usually do. Remember when Ms. Hawkins thought you were too good and that's why she made you the narrator of Joseph?"

"And look what happened after that." Katharine smiled widely at that memory. "I doubt myself sometimes, Reid. They want someone good to be Evelyn, I know it. Like, what about Sierra? She's been training with someone who used to be in the Broadway version of Phantom, and if what Ms. Scieszka said is true, then Evelyn is basically Christine, so Sierra's, like... she's probably gonna get it. There's no denying."

"I may know a thing or two about what they're looking for." Reid, noticing that Lacey was listening in on he and Katharine talking, leaned in closer to Katharine's ear. "They don't want an operatic songstress for Evelyn. Brooks thinks that might make the material too boring. They want someone with a sweet, melancholy voice... like how you sang Hey There, Delilah on YouTube."

"W-wait, what?" Katharine stumbled over her words. "Y-you watched that?"

"Of course I did, Kat! Remember? I subscribed to your channel the day you made it. I think I was even, like, the first viewer."

"Reid!" Katharine's cheeks burned again. "Well, I mean, thanks for the compliment, but I recorded that when I had a cold. That wasn't intentional!"

"Katharine." Reid put a hand on her shoulder. "You know, a lot of casting directors tend to go more for emotional voices over experienced voices these days. You can use that to your advantage! You shouldn't doubt yourself, especially when you're trying your hardest to get what you wish for."

“You’ve always been too kind, Reid.” Katharine went in for another hug, taking in a whiff of his sweet cologne. Reid certainly hadn't changed much since summer camp. Soft-spoken but full of experience, and open to change. “Oh, I’ve missed you so much! We need to hang out before auditions.”

“I’m not busy tonight. You want to go out for coffee or something?”

Katharine's face fell. As much as she would've loved to sip a white chocolate latte and sit with Reid underneath the patio fairy lights of Dresden's Coffeehouse, the dreaded graveyard shift at the Palace beckoned her to work tonight. Being a new usherette, her boss Jim usually assigned her to the shift without a second thought, as they needed someone "with ghost experience" to babysit the theater, lest the Ghost shows his ugly face. Jim knew her father for many years, and once he died, he became the only link to him that Katharine had left. Although he watched out for Katharine and made sure she too didn't become the Phantom's next victim, he treated her just as any other employee, no special treatment whatsoever. That included subjecting her to two-hours-a-day cleaning sessions.

“Oh, Reid…” Katharine said sadly. “I wish I could, but my boss is very strict about the graveyard shift. If I don’t show up, I’ll be dead on arrival the next time I go into work!"

“Where do you work? Anywhere near here?”

“The Universal Palace.” Katharine grimaced as Reid’s eyes widened. “Yup. The very place this show is all about. Trust me, I’ve seen everything first hand.”

"But..." Reid's voice trailed off. "Aren't those just ghost stories to scare people into not texting during the movie?"

"No, Reid. It's all real. You won't believe some of the things I've seen." _No,_ the little voice inside her mind yelled at her, _not around Reid!_ She glanced down at her watch, noticing it was already 6:33 pm. "Oh crap, I’m almost late! I've got to go." 

"Katharine, wait!" Reid grabbed Katharine's wrist, stopping her in her tracks. "Do you want me to pick you up later?"

Katharine drew away from him and slowly shook her head.

"Not unless you want to risk your life. Things have changed, Reid." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The audiotape that Katharine refers to is the [HHN 19 media invitation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FSORLxyZxk4)! Just ignore the parts where he mentions HHN.


	3. Stranger Than You Dreamt It

The Universal Palace's employees called third shift "the graveyard shift" because barely anyone showed up to catch a film or work for measly minimum wage. Every once in a while, the Palace did receive patrons, oddballs such as the eccentric filmmaker with nearly white eyes or the elderly woman with her knitting needles and a ball of yarn in her lap. Despite this, the Palace usually remained empty, although thankfully spruced up of the cobwebs and dust once lingering in every crook and crevice. The Phantom did _not_ like when his theater showed any signs of uncleanliness, as Jim warned his employees as they spent two hours cleaning the theater every night. It wasn't Katharine's favorite part of the evening, but it did give her time to rehearse. Jim didn't seem to mind... until he started locking himself in his office while wearing giant headphones over his ears.

A ten o'clock showing of _Dracula: Legacy in Blood_ kept Katharine company in the empty auditorium. Out of the six films the Palace consistently showed in rotation, this one had always been her favorite. Katharine loved horror stories with a dash of romance, especially when the leading lady confessed her love for the monster. She wasn't the kind of girl longing for the vampire's kiss, but she enjoyed the dreamlike thought of being pursued by a mysterious figure enamored by her voice. That's why she loved the story of _The Phantom of the Opera_. She easily identified with Christine - she lost her father to an unforeseen tragedy and immersed herself in the world of music to numb the pain lingering from his loss. She even had her own Phantom, never seeing his face, just like Christine's infamous Angel of Music. How ironic would it be if she got to play the Universal Palace's own Christine, dressed in faux furs and singing songs of love? Everything that happened to her all because of this theater would come full circle by then.

"Oh man, this again?"

Startled, Katharine’s flashlight clattered to the floor. Jacob, a fellow usher and the only other employee present for the graveyard shift, joined her in the stairway. The dull look in his brown eyes convinced her he wasn't so much a fan of _Dracula_ as she was.

"Oh, sorry." Jacob bent down to retrieve Katharine's flashlight. "Didn't mean to scare you."

"It's okay." Katharine took back her flashlight. "To answer your question, they just had to tack on the romance for the Twilight fangirls. Gets them to see these movies in the first place."

"But is all this really necessary? I mean..." Jacob's face contorted in disgust as Mina Murray bent down to the dying Dracula's level. "Horror doesn't need to be romantic. It _shouldn't_ be romantic. It's supposed to be terror and what scares people. They're making the villains too sympathetic, like that crappy Halloween remake."

"I know." Katharine leaned back against the wall. "But at least it's better than a remake where the action's equivalent to a Transformers movie. I mean, look!" She gestured at a close-up of Dracula's pearly white fangs sprouting from out of his teeth. "Practical effects. They don't really do that anymore. Everything’s just CGI these days.”

"You've got a point.” Jacob awkwardly adjusted his dark red coat, a mandatory staple of the ushers’ uniform. Unlike most movie theaters where the employees wore polo shirts and khaki pants, the staff of the Universal Palace still dressed in the old-fashioned ushers' and usherettes’ uniforms, complete with pillbox hats and bowties. "So, I heard you're auditioning for the Rep's new show?"

Katharine nodded. "For the female lead, Evelyn Crane."

"Evelyn Crane? Isn't she that old actress that Jim likes?"

"Yeah! Do you know anything about her being connected to the Palace?"

Jacob shrugged. "I don't know that much about her. Just the name is familiar, that's all. I know she showed up here decades ago and was never seen again. Nobody knows what happened to her."

"Oh.” _That still doesn’t explain the photo of her in the hall,_ Katharine thought. “Did you know the play is about the Palace? The ghost stories, specifically. Especially..." Again, she couldn't bring herself to say the name of the Phantom. "Uh, the Usher..."

"Julian Browning?” Jacob rolled his eyes. “They're _still_ trying to play up that story? It's a hazing ritual for new ushers to walk the catwalk where Julian supposedly got hanged. Jim sets up a noose to scare the shit out of everybody, and that's all there is to it. Everyone's taking it too seriously. He's not real!"

A rattle of thunder made the ceiling chandeliers shake, and the lights flickered on and off a few times. The air around Katharine and Jacob grew cold, _too_ cold to be from the permanently freezing air conditioning, and the hairs on the back of Katharine's neck stood up. Then, the film on the screen began to shake, the images turning into distorted blurs of muted colors. Thin, black lines scratched across the picture, and the contrast bounced from light to dark, creating a disorienting flash. In the corner of her eye, Katharine thought she saw another beam of light, smaller this time, near the emergency exit doors in the orchestra level of the auditorium, growing closer and closer to her until she caught a whiff of death's putrid stench in the air...

"Uh, hello?” Jacob waved his hand in Katharine’s face. “Earth to Katharine?”

"Sorry." Katharine blinked furiously. "Uh, is there something wrong with the movie?”

"The picture's dipping in and out. I'll go up to the booth and see what's wrong. Stay down here and don't move."

"D-don't move?! But you just said—"

But Jacob had already made his way up the stairs to the projection booth, leaving Katharine alone once again with the damaged images playing on the screen. Fangs pierced into a pale neck. A mesmerized sigh filled the air. Blood dripped down from open wounds, and Dracula's tongue lapped Mina's neck clean. _How ironic that the most infamous scene of the movie is still going,_ Katharine thought, _the scene where the monster finds his mate and brings her into the realm of the undead._ She recalled what Rebecca told her at the meeting - Evelyn Crane was Julian Browning's obsession, the Christine Daae to his Phantom. She captivated moviegoers with a simple bat of her heavily shadowed eyes and her sultry voice. Essentially, an ingenue with a bit of bite in her bark. Hard to get, but easily wooed over... how she wanted to become that...

_Bang!_

Blood soaked the edges of the film, ebbing closer to the center of the picture until eventually, the entire film strip itself became drenched in blood. The film continued to play as normal - Dracula held the newly transformed Mina in his arms, and her eyes opened, revealing what should've been piercingly white irises like his. The violin music swelled across the speaker system, and the shadow of a crooked hand hovered over the film, almost as if beckoning Katharine herself to join the children of the night...

"Katharine!"

"Jacob?!" Katharine trudged up the rest of the stairs to the projection booth. As soon as her foot hit the top stair, a nearly unconscious body collapsed at her feet, twitching and blood-stained and groaning in pain. "J-Jacob...?" She hesitantly knelt down and turned her flashlight on, shining the light in the person's face.

Jacob's head shot up, revealing the ribbons of blood streaming down his face and the deep contusions buried deep into his skull. In his severely weakened state, he could hardly speak, gasping desperately for air and releasing shaky fragments of a death rattle.

"JACOB!" Katharine cradled Jacob's head in her hands, staring into his eyes. "Jacob, who did this to you?!"

"Th-the Phantom..." Jacob heaved, tugging on Katharine's skirt. "H-he wants you... _run._ " 

That same beam of light that briefly caught Katharine's attention hovered over Jacob's body like an ominous orb, illuminating a tall, lanky man wearing the usual usher's uniform. Katharine looked closely, noticing the source of the light belonged to a blood-stained industrial flashlight resting in the man's white-gloved hands, which then careened into Jacob's skull once more, permanently silencing him.

"JIM!"

Katharine rushed down out of the auditorium, running past garbage bins piled high with discarded popcorn boxes and the wall with that damn photograph of Evelyn Crane herself, all while her breath remained stuck in her throat and her heart steadily beat in her chest. How could she be so foolish not to warn Jacob? No one ever dared to question the existence of Julian Browning, not even as a joke. He lurked everywhere in the theater... the hallways, the aisles... he could even be standing right next to you, and you wouldn't have even known.

"Jim!?" Katharine pounded her fists into her manager's door. It was locked as usual, and God forbid if his nonstop 1980s songs were blaring in his ears right now. "Jim, come quick! Jacob's dead!"

The Phantom slowly descended from one of the staircases in the center of the lobby, the beam of light creeping closer and closer to Katharine like a will o’ the wisp. She wasn’t able to see the Phantom’s face in the dim light of the lobby - _she didn't want to see his face_. The sound of his footsteps echoed, squeaking against the recently polished floors, as he nonchalantly hummed along to the tune of ‘Let’s All Go to the Lobby’ playing on the speaker system.

"Jim, _please!_ " Tears streamed down Katharine's cheeks as she jammed her foot into the door. "He’s coming—!"

Cold, gloved hands reached for Katharine's neck, thrusting her away from the door. Although the Phantom wasn't choking her, Katharine gagged and gasped out for air, flailing in his grasp. A faint scent of something both sick and sweet filled Katharine's nostrils, the aroma of a corpse who'd been rotting away for so long. She'd never been so close to a living corpse in her life. They were the creatures her father always warned her about. She'd rather be dead than be in the presence of a Kerezan who craved blood and flesh in his jagged teeth.

This zombie – if you could even call him one – didn’t thirst for blood, however. Fury raced through his hardened veins, forever maddened by the imbeciles who didn't follow the rules and honor decorum. Vengeance is more of an act of honor than it is revenge, the Phantom believed. Vengeance for broken rules. Vengeance for being cast to the shadows.

_Vengeance for a love lost..._

Katharine's body stiffened as the Phantom slowly drew his hands away from her throat. Slowly, carefully, she turned around to confront the monster who murdered Jacob and _her own father_ , the very man who stalked her for as long as she worked at the Palace, leaving empty nooses and trails of blood in his wake to warn her that she might be the next corpse hanging in the rafters if she wasn't on her best behavior.

"Ahh... making eye contact?” Julian Browning, an eerie, pale man with an air of class and a rotten smile grinned down at Katharine. He spoke with the same voice she heard on her father's audiotape, oddly light and carrying an undetectable accent. “Gutsy.”

Katharine collapsed in shock, but before her body hit the floor, she landed in Julian's open arms. The image of his grotesque face burned in the black void of her closed eyes. He looked just how she envisioned him to look - hollowed cheeks, dark ecchymosis spots underneath his eyes, the laceration around his neck that served as a cruel reminder of his demise. To her, the Phantom finally had a face, and she would never, ever forget it.

"Katharine?" Jim opened his door and pushed his headphones away from his ears. "Katharine, what—"

Julian carried Katharine past the staircase and the posters and into the dark, gated hallway of the theater no one dared to enter. Blood and sordid earth hit her nostrils the further they descended down the corridor as if they were traveling through a Parisian catacomb. Katharine didn’t dare open her eyes or mutter a single word. Anyone who tried to rebuke the story of Julian Browning usually met bitter ends. Broken rules, broken necks. It was the last thing she remembered her father telling her before disappearing into the depths of this very theater.

Moments later, Katharine felt herself being gently laid down on a bed. _A bed_... her heart sank to her stomach as she came to horrible conclusions. She dared to open her eyes, to take in the sight of her new surroundings. She caught a glimpse of Julian's back as he parted from a set of red velvet curtains that served as the entrance and exit of the room - a bedroom of sorts, judging from the peeling wallpaper and the old boudoir set up in the corner, complete with perfume bottles and a white dressing gown slung over the chair.

Beads of sweat dripped down Katharine's forehead, dampening her bangs. She brought her knees into her chest and buried her face into her knees, her chest rattling with a sob. Why did he bring her here? What is he going to do with her? Is this how her father suffered last year, brought to the underground to rot, maddened by the powers of vengeance? Will he kill her just as he killed him, summoning movie monsters to rip her body to shreds?

There is no hope for her down here, in the presence of a murderer... an _Icon_.

* * *

A loud burst of organ music woke Katharine up some hours later. She lay in the bed trembling, her eyes studying the room in a panic, stuck in a void of vague horrors and tortured dreams. The Phantom, the Usher, or whatever it was that Legendary Truth called him, brought her down here for reasons she didn’t know. Was it him playing the dark organ music that sounded like it came from several feet away? The music could wake the dead from out of their graves; that’s how loud it was. How did the patrons not hear the music from above in the theater?

Unsure of what to do – or even where to go – Katharine quietly climbed off the bed; she didn’t want Julian to hear her. She glanced around the room again, wondering whether or not he was playing another one of his tricks on her. She’d grown accustomed to them – not just the empty nooses and bursts of cold air, but also the trinkets she sometimes encountered in the Lost and Found bin. A child's teddy bear with a missing arm and stuffing ripped out of its stomach, boutonnieres from Carey High School's homecoming dance, an outdated cell phone with broken buttons. She usually threw them out, but they always made their way back, waiting in her locker in the breakroom.

Katharine pushed open the velvet curtains and found herself in the atrium of what Julian called home. How he managed to fit the whole infrastructure inside a relatively small, cramped space, she didn’t know, but from what she remembered, it looked exactly like the Phantom’s lair in the Lon Chaney movie, complete with stone walls and the hexagon-shaped alcoves and two steps leading to each room of the lair. He even had the Arabian carpets and what looked like a replica of the infamous box holding the statues of the scorpion and the grasshopper.

And then, she saw _him._

Julian sat at an old theater organ situated in the corner of the lair playing the same dark melody Katharine overheard for several minutes now. The more she listened to it, the more she unearthed the hidden emotions in whatever piece Julian rehearsed. What she initially interpreted as darkness and anger was, in fact, a melancholy longing, a yearning for love. It even sounded familiar to her... 

"I know this song..." Katharine spoke so quietly that Julian didn't hear her. She sang this song at an audition once or twice before. She recalled when she and Lacey visited their school's performing arts library one late evening. She must've spent hours trying to find new songs to rehearse and place into her repertoire, yet she never found the right song to resonate with her... that was until she found a piece entitled 'The Devil's Love' by an anonymous author. The pages yellowed with age and had dark splotches of ink here and there, but Katharine easily made a photocopy or two. When the casting director asked her who composed the piece or what musical it was from - pretty and sad, they thought - she didn't know the composer's name, only the agonizing story of a futile pursuit for love that lingered in the lyrics. 

Katharine stepped closer into the alcove where Julian sat, and as the music filled her ears, she began to sing:

_Your eyes see but my shadow_

_My heart is overflowing_

_There's so much you could come to know_

_You’re content not knowing_

_Tenderly_

_You could see_

_My soul_

Upon hearing Katharine's voice, Julian stopped playing and turned to face her. He'd never heard anyone sing his music before, let alone sung by the Angel the Palace brought to him. What was it the Phantom said when he first heard Christine's voice? Yes... _the angels wept._

"No emperor ever received so fair a gift," wrote the great Gaston Leroux. "The angels wept tonight."

"I-I'm sorry, what did you say?"

_Damn... did he say that out loud?_

His Angel's brown eyes grew wide once she realized she was in the presence of a zombie, a Kerezan like him. Julian didn't like to think of himself as a zombie, but rather an esteemed member of the living dead. The auburn-haired woman who reanimated him called him a _revenant_ , a ghost resurrected for the purpose of vengeance, a title which would come of good purpose when the time was right. It had been some time since he died - 1940, to be specific - and the further his corpse walked the earth, the further he decayed. His skin was stark white and stretched over high cheekbones; the only color in his face came from the dark bruises underneath his eyes. The uniform he always wore remained in pristine condition - he ensured that it was, for his uniform was a knight's armor here in his Palace - down to the polished gold buttons on his coat, and no loose threads to be found.

“I said… the angels wept tonight.” Julian slowly rose from the organ. “They’re envious of your voice, my dear. But I…” He placed a gloved hand over his heart and glanced down at her. Compared to him, she was like a fairy, short in stature. “I haven’t been in the presence of such talent in so long. Your voice is to die for… if you’ll mind the pun, of course.”

Katharine was too stunned to speak at first. If there was one thing she remembered her father telling her about confronting ghosts, let alone an Icon, it was that playing along with their game was the only way to survive their torment. You had to force yourself to say the opposite of what you thought until the very last minute, the opportune time to strike. This is what an Icon liked to see, someone who tried to fight back instead of accepting their fate. They absolutely despised whenever anyone told them no.

"You say you... know my music?" Julian then asked her, breaking the silence and the resulting tension.

"That... that song is _yours_?" Figures, she sang a romantic ode penned by a murderer. "I didn't know. It's one of the most beautiful songs I've ever heard."

"No one has ever heard nor seen it. Tell me, my dear, where did you find it?"

"My school's library. It was in the theatre wing, with no credit. I… I have my portfolio back upstairs, in my locker. I could show you—”

“There’s no need.” Julian turned back to the organ, running his gloved fingertips along the dusty mantle, lost in thought. “That piece was written by a long dead man who only thrived by the code of vengeance, with monsters to comfort him. And… _her_ …” A ghastly, unusually delighted look graced his face. “Evelyn…”

“Evelyn?” Finally, someone else knew Evelyn aside from her! “You're an Evelyn Crane fan, too?"

“I should be asking you the same.” The loose look in Julian's mismatched eyes made Katharine’s blood go cold. “Today’s youth know nothing of Evelyn Crane and her blessed offerings to cinema. Her greatest films have been shown at my Palace for many years… but unfortunately, she has faded into obscurity for… all the wrong reasons. But I hear there has been an attempt to resurrect her likeness. A certain… play, if I recall?”

“Y-yes!" Katharine nodded furiously. "I’m auditioning for it! For the part of Evelyn!”

"I could help you." Julian approached Katharine again, this time stepping so close to her that he nearly took up all of her personal space. “You want your portrayal to be... _accurate_ , yes?”

“As accurate as possible. I don’t know that much about her, other than what’s online and stuff. But I—”

“Shh…” Julian brought two fingers to Katharine’s lips, silencing her. “Being around for decades does have its advantages. I happen to have known Evelyn quite well. She visited us… frequently, when not in Hollywood. You could say she and I were… good acquaintances. I could be at your disposal for any information you inquire, Ms. Brody. The only question I ask is… what would you be willing to sacrifice?”

“S-sacrifice?” Katharine, taken aback by Julian’s question, wasn’t sure how to answer. “I… I don’t know, but when I sang for you…” A cold chill shot up her spine as she remembered how joy overcame her knowing the words to that song, how it made her soul _soar_. “I felt something I’ve never felt before. My soul felt like it was on fire!” Her face scrunched up; she sounded just like Christine! “Why have you brought me here? I mean, you _are_ an Icon, after all. You must have a reason, especially since you want to kill me—"

Julian hissed and grabbed at Katharine’s throat just as he did in the lobby. His thumbs dug deep enough to feel her steadily beating pulse. A mortal pulse… he hadn’t felt a mortal pulse in ages. She’s pale, but her skin held a slight rosy hint, especially in her cheeks. He’d bring the girl under his wing and give her everything she could possibly want if she wasn’t so _terrified_ of him. The ways he’d see her recoil and cry out in horror upon laying her eyes on his work, punishing the patrons who dared to defile the Palace. She simply didn’t understand why he had to do such things. She’d learn with time… if only she just _listened_ …

“I-I’m sorry!” Tears spilled down Katharine’s cheeks as she gasped out for air. “P-please! I know—”

He quickly released the girl from his grasp. She knows _what?_ All the lies and slander brought to his name since he died all those years ago? The masses believed he _committed suicide_. That was far from the truth. He died because an ignorant fool broke the golden rule and damaged his precious flashlight, and when he went to retrieve it, Lady Luck arranged for him to live an eternity of suffering. He’d rather be rolling in his grave than be on his feet, honestly, but with time he discovered his reasons to live in his afterlife. The Palace was one, always one. Memories of Evelyn was another. This girl… Katharine, he knew her name, having heard it echoed through his halls many times before… was in line to be one more.

"I know who you are." Katharine, although shaken by the corpse's touch, straightened her shoulders and looked up at him. “I’ve heard all the stories. You’re the Usher... you're Julian Browning!”

“Julian Browning is dead.” He spoke distantly, bitter from past failures. “But he can be revived through you, my dear. Let these mortals know that he is _home_ here in his Palace. If they dare to further degrade his name, then they will _suffer_ from a broken neck or two." He rose from the organ and grabbed her hands; a cold, unwelcome sensation made Katharine's body tingle unpleasantly. "Be my conduit, Katharine. I will tell you _anything_ you wish to know about Evelyn, and perhaps myself as well, but only if you let them know that _I am here._ ”

Katharine glanced down at her hands, wringing them together. As an actress, one must take the greatest offer propositioned to them, even if further down the line it ended in misery. Evelyn Crane was the role of a lifetime in Katharine's eyes - it could even be her groundbreaking role. There wasn't much she needed to do. There wasn't much she can do now that the best source of Evelyn Crane information aside from herself stood before her. Julian may have all the answers she needs to win the role, and who knew? Maybe if she befriended this Theater Ghost, she, along with the other members of the Universal Palace's staff, might be spared from all his vengeance.

“I’ll do it.” 

The same yellow grin that greeted Katharine in the lobby spread on Julian’s face as he took her hand – gently this time – and brought it to his parched lips in a kiss. Katharine bit down on her lip to prevent herself from recoiling at his touch. _She just signed a deal with the devil._

“You have made the best decision one could ever ask for, Katharine. We’ll have Carey at our feet by the time you make your debut as Evelyn. But for now… I believe that fool who runs my theater will be missing you.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t own the lyrics to “The Devil’s Love.” It’s actually the “Don Juan” song from the 1989 Phantom of the Opera movie; music/lyrics by Misha Segal and Nancy Fontana.


	4. Let the Dream Descend

_**A week later** _

When Simon and Rebecca arrived at the Universal Palace to conduct their Evelyn auditions, they were greeted not by the smiling faces of all the hopefuls wanting to nab the female lead, but by a thick stack of letters waiting for them at the theater's concession stand.

"What's all this for?" Rebecca asked with a raise of her eyebrow.

"They're from _him_ , Ms. Scieszka,” Jim, the Palace's manager, told her with wariness in his voice. “The Phantom’s heard about your little play and he wants to make some changes.”

“The Phantom himself endorses our play? Oh, how splendid!” Simon clapped his hands together. “He'll help us make our play much more accurate!”

“No, you dope!” Rebecca slapped her business partner’s shoulder. “Audiences don’t want to hear the memoirs of a serial killer! They want suspense, drama! I’m telling you, the romance story I’ve got going on between Julian and Evelyn is gonna get butts into seats! _That’s_ what people want to see!” Still, she turned to Jim and asked him, “What’s he saying?”

"I've read through a few of them." Jim set the letters down on the display case and grabbed one he ripped open earlier in his office. "In this one, he says that the casting directors should remember that Evelyn had brown eyes, not blue, and her hair was brown, not blonde."

“We were going to get a wig, anyway,” Rebecca remarked.

"And in this one..." Jim grabbed another letter. "He advises that his salary hasn't been paid... oops, that's for me." He stuffed the letter inside the pocket on his trousers and grabbed one more. "Now here he says..." His eyes widened in horror as the letter fell out of his hand and floated to the floor. "Oh, my..."

“What is it?” Brooks asked with the excitement of one watching an actor pretend to take out someone’s heart on an autopsy table.

“It says…” Rebecca bent down to retrieve the letter. She squinted her eyes as she read the message and its rather messy handwriting. “'I am rather fond of Ms. Katharine Brody and her voice. Her sweet songs fill this theater's halls with the seraphic voice of an angel, and she makes this old spirit feel _alive_.’" She lowered the paper to underneath the crooked bridge of her nose. "You've got to be kidding me."

"To be fair, it _is_ true," Jim told her. "Katharine’s one of my employees. She sings whenever she's cleaning, and I'll admit, she's got a great voice! But she needs to learn how to tone it down a few notches!"

Rebecca returned to the note. "'Thus, I believe that Ms. Brody is the perfect candidate for the role of Evelyn Crane. She has the magnificent power to stun one with just her voice and charisma, as a first-hand account will tell you, and so her pursuit for stardom shall not leave her empty-handed... which would make her casting ideal in my milky eye...'”

"Mr. Brooks? Ms. Scieszka?" Reid, who'd recently been cast as the play's male lead, Julian Browning himself, entered the lobby with a cardboard carton of four Dresden’s coffees in his hands. "Sorry I'm late. I had to stop by Carey U and run a few errands. I think I got everyone’s orders down, though!” His eyebrows furrowed when he noticed the stack of letters and Rebecca’s incredulous expression. "What's going on here?"

"We've got a haunting on our trail, my boy!" Simon exclaimed as he took his coffee. "The Phantom himself looks like he wants to become a part of our little production.”

"The Phantom? Katharine told me about him yesterday. I didn't believe her, but—"

“You’re close to Katharine, aren’t you?” Rebecca shoved the note in Reid’s face. “Then explain this. Is this her idea of a messed-up joke, or is the Phantom really trying to ass-kiss us into casting her as Evelyn?”

Reid's eyes scanned the note up and down a few times. "She wouldn't write anything like that," he eventually concluded, shrugging. A thin smear of blood running across the bottom half of the note then caught his attention. "I think you've missed the most important part of this note, Ms. Scieszka."

“Nah, I think I got the gist of it already. Katharine wants to be Evelyn, and we should cast her, and blah, blah blah—”

“Not even that.” Reid set down the carton of coffees on the concession stand counter and took the note from Rebecca. "’The fate of the Carey Repertory Theatre shall be at stake if the directors do not comply with my demands. With broken rules come broken necks, and I will ensure that the proper justice is carried out if the performance does not respect both the Universal Palace and her Usher. Signed, J.B…’”

“Julian Browning!” Simon gasped.

“’And P.S.’,” Reid continued, “’do not fear for Ms. Brody’s safety. She has been studying with a great teacher to improve her acting expertise. She will be present at today’s audition, and I am interested to see how her mentored performance will land with you all. I shall be watching the auditions from the central balcony of Auditorium 3, which my minions shall keep empty for me. Do not even try to bring Katharine Brody down… or else it will be your feet that leave the ground’.”

Rebecca pursed her lips in thought. After a moment of silence, she said, "Yup, Katharine definitely wrote that."

“But how can you be so sure that she did?” Simon asked her.

“She wants that Evelyn role badly.” Rebecca leaned her back against the display case. “I remember how she came up to me at the meeting… she said she’s Evelyn’s biggest fan or something like that. And it’s not like we’ve _seen_ the Phantom ourselves, either. To us, he’s still just a myth.”

“But he just killed one of my employees—” Jim began to say.

“I don't believe he wrote those until I see him myself! Which gives me an idea…”

“Yes, what is it?” Simon inched his way closer to Rebecca.

“Simon, no offense, but your enthusiasm is really starting to freak me out.” Rebecca gently pushed him away. “Anyway, as I was saying, the Phantom supposedly knows Katharine’s voice, but does he know anyone else’s?”

“I don’t know where you’re going with this,” Simon said uneasily.

“I’m saying we’ll cast whoever the Phantom reacts the strongest. If we want to find out whether or not the Phantom actually wrote those notes, then it's how we've got to cast the show. He’s gonna get _pissed_ if he hears anyone other than Katharine singing up there. So that’s why I think we should—”

“Hello, darlings!”

A copper-haired, slightly squat woman wearing an abundance of makeup and jasmine perfume sauntered into the lobby, throwing off her Dolce and Gabbana sunglasses. Nancy Bianca Eliza Finch - and yes, she used all three of those names in Playbills, programs, and the sort - made her living as the Carey Rep's leading actress. For over twenty years, she had starred in the Rep’s most well-known productions: _The Mansion on Dead End Street_ , _The Battle Cry of the Nightingales_ , _The Curse of Castle Vampyr_ , and perhaps the play she was most well-known for, _Seeds of Extinction_ , in which she played an overgrown topiary monster with a seven-minute-long aria.  Age had caught up to Ms. Finch, however – the dreaded age of forty loomed over the horizon. Thanks to her niece, Sierra Chastain, she realized that _The Phantom of the Universal Palace may_  easily be her swan song, her last greatest performance. It all came down to whether or not the casting directors decided to use a younger actress or not… something she severely resented.

“Ah, Ms. Finch!” Rebecca grabbed her black coffee out of the carton in Reid’s hands as she approached the actress. “Just the lady we’ve wanted to see!”

“It’s a shame you missed our grand announcement meeting, Ms. Finch,” Simon told her, “but don’t worry! We have you at the top of our auditionees that are auditioning today.”

“Of course you do.” Nancy pulled her mink coat closer to her neck – why someone would wear a mink coat in eighty-degree weather, none of the production team were sure. “I’ve even brought along a little friend who’s interested in the production, too!”

"Hi, everyone!" Sierra strutted into the Palace's lobby, her dark curls bouncing as she joined her beloved aunt's side. "I hope we're not too late. We just came back from Chicago!"

“As a matter of fact, you two are the first to arrive!” Simon said cheerily. After checking his gold Rolex watch, he added, “I’m surprised no one else has shown up yet. Auditions begin in half an hour!”

“I’m here,” a soft voice that came from somewhere in the lobby said.

The production crew turned around and quickly masked their expressions of bewilderment and concern as Katharine entered the lobby from a black gate situated near the breakroom. Quite frankly, she looked like Hell. Her brown hair was slightly disheveled and hung in her eyes, while her skin appeared paler than usual, bringing attention to the dark rings underneath her eyes.

“That’s her, auntie,” Sierra whispered to Nancy indiscreetly. “She’s that girl in my classes that's always trying to upstage me!”

“She’s young,” Nancy whispered back with a scoff. “A bit… _too_ young to play such a diva of the cinema, no? And that hair...” She stifled a groan by biting on her darkly painted lip. “It looks like a rat’s nest!”

“There you are, Katharine!” Reid approached her. “I stopped by your apartment to come and give you a ride, but Lacey said you were already here.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Is everything okay?”

"Everything is fine," Katharine said in a hoarse whisper. She cringed hearing her own voice. How would she be able to audition with the voice of a woman who chain-smoked two packs of cigarettes a day? "Uh... rough shift last night.”

But this couldn't have been any farther from the truth. Last night, Julian made her stay after the graveyard shift and the cleaning session that followed to stand alone in the lobby, to literally 'get a feel' for the Palace's ambiance. Although Katharine knew the Palace to be a beautiful theater with so much history to her name, all she connected to her were stray spiderwebs and distant screams, and musty scents of dirt and old perfume. What was the Universal Palace like when she wasn't haunted, shining and triumphant as she hosted some of Hollywood's greatest movies to ever grace her screens?

"There is still beauty here in this Palace if you look hard enough, my dear," Julian advised her. "Evelyn knew, and you should, too.”

“But I don’t understand,” Katharine said. “What am I supposed to feel?”

Julian gave her that smug smile that sent chills down her spine. "The Palace was once a kingdom that beckoned all the kings and queens of cinema to revel in her delights... to lose themselves in the art their own passion brought to them. Evelyn especially… being in Hollywood all the time, she was always _overjoyed_ to be here, knowing all would bow down at her glorious talents.” He brushed back Katharine’s hair with his hand, revealing her neck to him. She tried not to wince at his sudden, cold touch. “Close your eyes. You’ll see what I mean.”

Katharine closed her eyes and focused intently, trying to capture the vibe of the Universal Palace in her prime. Suddenly, as if by some sort of magic, her surroundings began to change. Soft jazz music played from a gramophone situated in a corner of the lobby, and the lightbulbs in the overhead chandeliers flickered on, illuminating the immaculate staircases and marble busts standing the podiums. Those dusty, floral scents around her faded away, replaced by fresh aromas of sweet candies and freshly cut roses. People began to fill in the fantastical frame, popping up one by one, dressed to the nines in modest dresses and crisp suits, chattering and laughing amongst themselves.

"Five minutes!" the employee in charge of the concession stand hollered. "Five minutes until our next feature presentation!"

"What do you see?" Julian whispered in Katharine's ear.

"I see... the Palace...” Katharine said slowly, concentrating more. “Is this what she was like back in your day?"

Julian nodded slowly. “Do you know how much I miss those good old days, Katharine? Back when a tortured spirit could wander freely through his home without being detected by rueful ghost hunters?” He paused briefly, not wanting to go on another rant about the Spirit Seekers and their blasted intervention. The daughter of one happened to be in his presence, after all. “This is what it was like for Evelyn. When she visited us, it was as if the Queen of England herself had arrived… lines of people wrapped around the theater waiting to see her, sobbing and shrieking for mere acknowledgment of their adoration. She stunned the world with her voice, her abilities to both seduce and soothe.”

“Evelyn!” Back in Katharine's dream, the moviegoers of the past began to cheer. “There she is! That’s Evelyn Crane!”

Katharine caught a hint of her reflection in the polished marble floors beneath her feet. Her dark hair sat in a wavy coif atop her head, and she wore a stunning pink evening gown with arm-length white gloves and a pearl necklace clasped around her throat. The flashes coming from the cameras around her briefly brought light to her face, revealing to her the dark brown eyeshadow and red lipstick she wore. The epitome of a 1940s starlet, elegant and classy yet with a hint of vulnerability, stood before her, and as Katharine peered closer, she realized she may not actually be herself.

“Ms. Crane, over here!” a man with the voice of an old-timey radio announcer called to her. “Give us a bright smile, will ‘ya?”

That’s when it hit Katharine. In this dream, this hallucination, whatever this was, _she_ was Evelyn.

“Sing that song from the gala, Ms. Crane!” another one of the moviegoers, a woman wearing too much red lipstick that clashed with her blue-and-white polka dot dress cried. “The one from your latest picture!”

"T-the Devil's Love?" Katharine noticed her voice had changed, too, silky and dignified. 

"Yes, yes!"

Julian claimed he never performed ‘The Devil’s Love’ publicly, so how did this patron know about it?

Nevertheless, Katharine – as Evelyn – began to sing, this time fully aware of the song’s connotations as they resonated through her heart. This is a song about _love_ , but from whose viewpoint – the singer or the composer? Julian had so much wrath in his dead heart; how did he feel the yearning for something he futilely tried to hold in his grasp? Did he feel this way for Evelyn? In his own twisted way, did he feel this love for _her_? 

“Yes, Katharine…” Julian's voice echoed in her mind. “In this Palace, all must pay homage to film… and the one who protects these sacred moving pictures with all his heart. When I first heard you sing, I knew I needed you by my side. _You_ are as if Evelyn has been brought back from the dead! _My_ dearest Evelyn!” His voice got higher, more demanding as passion took over. “Sing for me, Katharine! _Sing!_ ”

Tears streamed down Katharine's cheeks as she landed the final high note in the song. Her ribs felt hollow, utterly empty. She offered her soul to the Universal Palace and was left with nothing in return. Only the shrill screams coming from her captive audience gave her a clue as to how well-received her performance was.

_Screams?_

When Katharine opened her eyes and returned to the real world, scenes of madness unfurled before her. The roses in the vases wilted and lost their color, their slender stems drooped over the rim and the petals floating to the floor. Discarded candy boxes and ripped ticket stubs lay beneath her feet, dirtying the once pristine lobby. Even the hem of the white dress she wore had become stained with blood, puddles seeping beneath her feet and into the cracks in the marble floor.

The same moviegoers from her hallucination came back with her, now bloodstained and mutilated in various ways. A man's skin sported dark spots of ashes, his blond hair singed and his eyes bloodshot. A woman dressed as a bride hissed at Katharine with a mouth full of fangs, while the moviegoer with the blue-and-white polka dot dress now wore a mask of an overly cheery fast food mascot, giggling wildly.

Transparent… hazy… monstrous, in some cases. These were the ghosts of the patrons who suffered at the hands of Julian Browning, their souls bound to the Universal Palace. Katharine's father's notes were filled with factoids about them; in fact, they were the reason why Legendary Truth opened their investigation. The Palace lured these patrons into enacting their misdeeds, and in turn, she ushered them right to their unfortunate deaths, forcing them to an afterlife of revenge.

"No!" Katharine's feet wouldn't move, practically glued to the ground. She clung to Julian, burying her face into his shoulder as the spirits crept closer. "Get them to stop! Please! I'm begging you!"

Julian flicked on his flashlight. The bright beam of light emanating from it frightened the spirits enough for them to retreat back into the dark crooks of the hallways and the crevices of the aisles.

Once they disappeared, Katharine slowly lifted her head off Julian's shoulder and looked up at him, trembling at the smirk plastered on his pale face.

"W-what was that?" Her voice sounded like the pin that dropped in a silent room, frail and small.

"I apologize on their behalf, Katharine," Julian said. "They've been getting rather restless lately... but you must believe me when I say you need to be careful around them. They almost thought you were the real Evelyn Crane... the queen of this Palace."

"Queen?" Katharine gasped. What did he mean by 'queen of this Palace?' Did he mean Evelyn?  _Her?_

Carefully, Julian pressed her closely to his side, slowly sliding his flashlight along her exposed collarbone. "You know there's no way out of this darkness, Katharine." He leaned in closer to her ear, feeding off her confusion. "Trust me."

Katharine couldn't remember anything else that happened last night. She may have sung again, perhaps asked Julian more about Evelyn, but the memories faded into blurs in her head. Either way, she woke up in the same bedroom Julian brought her to when they first met, without any realization of time, and the prissy voice of Sierra Chastain coming from upstairs reminded her today was audition today. Julian's 'spiritual intervention' nearly caused her to miss them.

* * *

"Katharine?" Reid's voice brought Katharine back to attention. "You don't look fine. Did you sleep well at all last night?"

“Hardly.” Katharine shook her head. “Damn stage fright,” she added with a tired chuckle.

“Here.” Reid grabbed the Dresden’s cup marked with an abbreviation for a white chocolate latte. “I got you some coffee from Dresden’s. White chocolate latte, your favorite!”

“Thanks.” Katharine grabbed the cup out of Reid’s hands like a ravenous feral child and took a swig, relishing in the feeling of the burning sensation inside her throat. 

Around fifteen or so minutes later, only three more of the expected auditionees arrived at the Palace. Simon’s smile faded a bit. Although he did anticipate for some of the play’s interest to die down a bit, he wasn’t expecting such a low turn-out for auditions. _Not to worry_ , he reassured himself as he smiled at Nancy. _The cream of the crop is already present!_

“Well, then.” Simon cleared his throat and smiled up at the six auditioning women. “It looks like it’ll be just you lovely ladies today! Thank you for coming out and supporting our little play. We hope we can make Phantom our greatest production yet, at least until this zombie apocalypse storms on through. Hopefully, you remember what we require from you when we invite you into the auditorium for your audition. One classical, one jazz or musical theatre song. Everyone ready?” The six women nodded. “All right! Looks like we’re all ready to go, so… Ms. Finch, go ahead and follow me, Reid, and Rebecca into Auditorium 3!”

“Break a leg, auntie!” Sierra called out to her aunt.

“You know I will, darling!” Nancy released an ugly cacophony of a laugh as she followed the production crew up the staircase leading to Auditorium 3. “Well, not literally, of course. These knees of mine will never tire!”

The same cold draft Katharine usually felt in the auditoriums blew through her hair. Nancy Finch’s aura must’ve alerted Julian to an impending threat upon his theater. A lump formed in Katharine’s throat as she realized what may happen if she didn’t earn the role of Evelyn. Julian hadn’t spoken yet of his plans for if such a dire event occurred, and Katharine didn’t want to know what they may possibly consist of. Either way, she knew it would not be pretty.

“What’s the matter, Brody?” Sierra asked Katharine tauntingly. “Are you worried that one of those Palace ghosts might pop out and murder you?”

“N-no.” Katharine brought her portfolio close to her chest. “I just have jitters, that’s all.”

“ _Please_.” Sierra snorted. “You  _still_ get stage fright? That’s rather unprofessional of you. At least my auntie taught me to push away my sorrows instead of just relishing in them like some poor sap who never got over their father’s death!” She sauntered away, trilling to warm up her vocal cords.

Tears stung in the corners of Katharine's eyes, but she blinked them away. No one ever dared to talk about her father in that way, not especially since he died in a way most of Carey's citizens feared they'd die, too. She couldn't show weakness today, not even when she looked like she'd been dragged out of the fires of Hell and she still remained haunted by the Palace's ghosts. She needed to be strong for her father... the Universal Palace... Evelyn Crane...

For Julian.


	5. Heaven Help Those Who Doubt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 6/16/19: Chapter edited to fix a plot hole.

How he loved to see his Angel beam with light once more. Thrilled by dreams of vengeance, she'd shine triumphantly amongst the rest of the women auditioning to be Evelyn, letting her crystalline voice fill the Palace's old halls with the voice that sent his soul to Hell and back again. He sent those notes to the production crew for a reason - no other will ever play Evelyn as great as Katharine can. He taught her to the best of his ability, teaching her how to open her heart to the Palace, breathing in the same airs as Evelyn once did, helping her transcend from ordinary woman to the starlet in her heyday. The quivering smile on her face and the trembling of her body told Julian everything he needed to know at that moment where he had her completely under his control, thrust into that void where the past had never died, where certain dreadful events hadn't yet happened, where he didn't die because of some moronic imbecile who dared to mistreat his theater with such cruelty.

The Palace didn't approve of Katharine, much to Julian's dismay. Like Norma Bates with her son Norman, a breathy voice crept into his mind whenever she wanted to tell him something. She _did_ have a human spirit - only he thought so, in the years he spent both alive and dead. Most thought he was insane to think a building had such a sentient soul, but then again, did anyone ever believe him?

"Kill them all for me, Julian." Her voice echoed in his head as he hid near the entryway to his lair, watching Katharine rehearse for her audition. "Do not let my glory be forgotten. I am as proud and dignified as any other theater in the world. Let me youthful again. Let me feel _alive_. Let me live _through you_ …”

“ _Please,_ let me spare her," Julian pleaded, murmuring under his breath. "She does not deserve to die. Not _yet_..."

“Who? The little singer girl who thinks she can replace me?” She scoffed in disdain. “Don’t be such a fool! Your soul has been bound to me for almost an entire century! What makes you think _she’s_ any better? You _must_ kill her for _me!_ Make these mortal fools remember where their proper place is if they ever step out of line. _She_ is not exempt from your wrath.” 

The relationship Julian had with the Universal Palace wasn’t easy to explain. She’s just a movie theater, after all, an almost ninety-year-old building with her own fair share of rust and decay. The Palace sheltered him in all the years he spent alone and friendless, providing to him the magic that fiction brought, allowing him to escape to a world better than our own and to forget the wounded life he led. He sympathized with the monsters on the silver screen; his heart bled for Dracula and raced for Frankenstein’s monster. To most, he _is_ that very monster, one who takes his role as an Usher to the highest extent, strict in ensuring that all rules are followed. He only killed to protect _her_ , the love of his life… and afterlife, as well. She gave him a reason to live. _Protect me and I will protect you._ The Palace gave him everything he could ever wish for.

And then Katharine came along.

Julian first encountered Katharine not when she first became employed at the Palace, but when she was around sixteen or seventeen. Her father, Steven (he never forgot a fool’s name or face, especially one whose main goal was to exploit the so-called ‘crimes’ he committed) visited with Jim, then the Palace's assistant manager. Back then, the Palace operated as a dollar theater, running stale new releases and baffling action films with too many guns and scenes of a sexual nature. How did that child with the Coke bottle glasses perform magic so vividly? They now made cars that accelerated down the streets in the speed of light? The films made Julian realize just how long he'd been around, yet he marveled at the innovations these new films shed to light, through some source of behind-the-scenes tricks he’d like to learn about someday.

Julian remembered the day to almost photographic detail. Steven and Jim sat in the projection booth of Auditorium 3 setting up equipment that made his ears ring from a horrid screeching noise emitting from one of their set-up contraptions. To distract Katharine from their work, as well as set her up to be an unsuspecting lookout, Steven brought her to the central balcony - Julian's own Box 5 - and had Jim run a spare reel of Bride of Chucky to occupy her as if she was a young child with a very short attention span. She didn't seem very interested in the picture, staring off into space rather than at the screen in front of her.

"Charles Lee Ray..." Julian murmured, slowly entering the balcony. "One of the world's most well-known slashers. Who knew such a pint-sized terror can kill just as any other man could?"

“Who said that?” Katharine whispered, turning around in her seat. “Is anyone there?”

Out of habit, Julian almost shushed the girl, but he quickly stopped himself in fear that the strange contraption would alert Steven and Jim to his presence. He hid behind the entryway curtains, slinking to the shadows so that he wouldn't be seen.

Dissatisfied that no one answered her, Katharine turned around and silently watched the scene where Charles – _Chucky_ – electrocuted his soon-to-be bride Tiffany in a filled-to-the-brim bathtub via a staticky television. The scene reminded Julian of an amateur European black-and-white-film he’d seen some time ago; he couldn’t remember the title of it. In death, memory failed you, especially if you’d been around for almost a century.

Then, Katharine bent down to the bag beneath her feet and pulled out a torn book with pencil markings and yellow marked lines gracing the pages. _A script,_ Julian noticed as Katharine thumbed through the pages. Was she an actress trying to memorize her lines for a school play? A singer needing to nail down that cadenza? He liked the ones with ambition, a hunger for fame. He may have been like that in his youth. At least being an Usher kept him close to the action, guarding the stars like a soldier in war.

“No one’s watching me, so…” Katharine smirked mischievously to herself before rising from her seat, script in hand, and passing through the curtains concealing the upper level of the lobby from the balcony. Julian followed her, hiding behind the curtain while keeping an eye on the film. Katharine set down her script on the golden banister, and after eyeing the lyrics for a brief second, a voice, high in timbre and trembling with inexperience, began to sing:

_Daylight, see the dew on the sunflower_

_And a rose that is fading_

_Roses wither away_

_Like the sunflower, I yearn to turn my face to the dawn_

_I am waiting for the day_

Tears nearly sprang from Julian's eyes. He couldn't ever recall hearing such an innocent voice like hers before, sweet and pure. She still had a lot to learn in order to truly be perfect, yet her cadence and pitch suited the melancholy lyrics that passed from her lips. He'd hadn't been so spellbound since when he first laid his eyes upon the first frame of _The Phantom of the Opera_.

“What a wonderful voice,” Julian found himself saying aloud. “So clear… so _pristine_ …”

"Who said that?" Katharine asked again, but she didn't turn around to confront him.

Julian didn't respond for a second as he tried to think of how to speak to the young woman without outright traumatizing her. Usually, he loved frightening teenagers to death by whispering in their ears or letting his shadow linger on the wall, but for this starlet-in-the-making with fright wide in her eyes, he might be forced to make an exception.

"It was me," Julian finally said, staying behind the balcony curtains. "Your, ah, Angel of Music."

“Angel of Music?” Katharine’s head jolted up at the eerie voice that addressed her. “Isn't that from Phantom of the Opera?"

"It is, yes. I guess you could say that I am, of course, the Phantom of this very theater. My soul is... bound to this Palace, and has been for quite a long time.”

"Are you a demon?" Katharine then asked him.

Julian raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Unless my soul is suffering from eternal damnation, then no.”

“A vampire?”

“I don’t have fangs and I don’t crave blood… in the literal sense, anyway…”

“A zombie?”

“I don’t crave flesh either, and I wouldn’t be able to speak with you if I were a zombie.”

“A ghost?”

Julian paused. _Revenant_ is the more precise term, but ghost did just fine.

“I knew it!” Katharine exclaimed before he could even answer. “You’re a ghost! You’re that Usher my dad’s looking for!”

“Please… don’t be so loud,” Julian admonished her with a hiss behind clenched teeth. “You wouldn’t want to disturb the other patrons, now would you?”

“N-no…” Katharine bent down to the floor and sat cross-legged, now facing the curtain. “I, uh… I wouldn’t tell my dad, anyway. I’m nice to ghosts. They’re people, too, even if they’re mean and scary. And, well…” She bashfully glanced down into her lap. “You’ve been pretty nice to me. I don’t get why people want to hurt you so much. Isn’t this place your home?”

Julian’s undead heart stirred with... _something_. An emotion he hadn't felt in forever. She might’ve been the first to ever not be afraid of him, to not turn away. Here she sat in front of him, asking questions like any other precocious child, intrigued by the mystery of the Palace. Not once did she scream or run away, or look up at him like some wounded animal on its last limbs. She _stayed_.

“Oh, my sweet child…” Julian carefully ran his fingers along the curtain in front of him. “Your words touch my heart… or what I have left of it. Who taught you not to be so afraid of ghosts?”

Katharine shrugged. "Myself, I guess." After a pause, she asked him, "Who taught you not to be so afraid of humans? _Living_ people?"

"I used to not be so afraid of them, my dear... that was, until people began to break the rules." Julian toyed with his flashlight, flicking the switch on and off. "Do you know how I died?"

"Nuh-uh."

"Well... Let's just say whenever somebody does something wrong, they usually get _rewarded_ for it. That's how society seems to work nowadays..."

"What do you mean?" Katharine rose to her feet and stepped closer to the curtain, drawn by the specter hiding from her.

" _I'm dead,_ child.” Rage empowered Julian’s voice. “Instead of resting six feet under, I've been brought back for revenge... a vengeance that is to be justified for all I've suffered. They'll soon see the same slivers of Hell I've once personally endured."

"But I'm not afraid." Katharine anxiously rocked back and forth on her heels. "I've seen ghosts before. Why would you be any different? C-can I see what you look like?"

"Only if you promise not to scream. I'm a bit... frightening on mortal eyes."

"I promise I won't."

Julian smirked to himself. _Better scare them while they're young._ He slowly drew back the balcony curtains and reached out a gloved hand to her, all while still hiding his face. The moment needed to have the same tension that a great horror movie twist ending entailed, something like the ending of The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari where it was revealed all the main players were asylum inmates. This girl probably thought he was the most harmless looking corpse in existence. That couldn't have been any farther from the truth. She had most likely never seen real rotting flesh before...

“Katharine!” A man – that foolish oaf, _Steven_ – came running up the staircase. “There you are! Oh my god, I was so worried... _What the hell!?_ "

Katharine ashamedly turned her head away from the balcony curtains, revealing to her father the mysterious gloved hand holding onto hers.

"He was nice, dad! He just needed someone to talk to!"

Steven's face paled and, without hesitation, he pulled Katharine away from the balcony. "We're going home." He grabbed her hand and marched her down the staircase. "And you are _not_ coming with me on any investigations ever again! What you did is not safe! You could’ve been killed!”

That warm feeling Julian felt in his heart entirely evaporated into thin air. His fist curled around his flashlight as he peered past the curtain, watching as a tear-stricken Katharine was dragged out of the lobby by her overprotective father. He never liked the sound of children crying in the middle of movies, but this poor girl with remarkable talent that was sure to evolve in the years to come, had only been curious about what lurked in the dark.

Katharine stopped by the double doors as her father stormed down the sidewalk, gazing up at the balcony again to find her newfound ghostly friend, Without wanting to make a scene, Julian slipped his hand out again and bent his fingers up and down, a wave of sorts. A tearful smile graced the young girl's face. If she ever returned to the Universal Palace, she'd be sure to find her friend once again.

* * *

A loud shriek of a high note startled Julian from his internal reminiscing. The auditions had begun, and the first to sing was the diva who came strutting into the lobby as if she owned this very theater. The diva – Nancy – had thrown off her furs, discarding them like a piece of obtrusive litter, and started wailing an operatic aria Julian couldn’t quite place. He wasn’t that well-versed in modern theatre and opera, only familiar with the musicals from the 1930s and earlier. The Palace did have some room to put on stage productions, so in the past, he’d usher over shows such as _Ziegfeld Follies_ and _Show Boat_ whenever their touring productions arrived in Carey. To bear witness to such marvels in the flesh made him wish he too could’ve been like the performers, but he preferred to keep to himself in the shadows. He never quite developed a good singing voice anyway, and years of singing “Let’s All Go to the Lobby” to himself as he paced around the lobby didn’t do wonders, either.

“She sounds like a dying animal,” one of Julian’s minions, a blonde usherette named Roxanne, quipped with a click of her tongue. “Who thinks she’d be good enough for Evelyn?”

“Certainly the lowest common denominator,” Julian said dryly. “That woman has no proper diction whatsoever. It’s as if she’s singing with a mouthful of marbles.” He winced as Nancy held a particularly shrill note.

“When will Katharine sing, sir?” another minion, an usher named Peter, asked Julian.

“If I’ve heard correctly, she will be the last to sing, which unfortunately means that we will have to sit through more of this… _caterwauling._  We need to…" Julian tapped his fingertips against the top of the rail in front of him. " _Cast_ the rest of them out, if you know what I mean.”

“Will it involve murder?" Roxanne asked excitedly.

Julian merely smirked at her. "You'll see."

* * *

"That was wonderful, Ms. Finch!" Simon said as he, Rebecca, and Reid applauded at the end of Nancy's aria - _O mio babbino caro_ , to be specific. "Simply wonderful!"

"Thank you, darling!" Nancy swept into a deep curtsy. "I've spent weeks preparing that song! It was my stepmother's favorite operatic piece. I knew it'd be the perfect way to honor her!"

"Who's your stepmother?" Reid asked her.

"Oh, they didn't tell you?" Nancy let out a pompous huff. "Evelyn Crane, of course! I'm her stepdaughter from her fourth marriage. Harold Finch, the oil tycoon—"

Rebecca loudly cleared her throat. "We'd like to hear sixteen bars from your jazz selection now, if you would.”

"Oh, of course!" Nancy giggled and strode over to the pianist, Duncan, gesturing for him to switch out the sheet music. As he scrambled through her repertoire for 'Honeysuckle Rose', Nancy spun back to the production crew, sheepishly smiling at them. "Sorry. Duncan wasn't ready yet!" She added through gritted teeth, glaring at Duncan, "Someone isn't doing their job right..."

"I'm almost there, Ms. Finch," Duncan muttered. As he finally came across Nancy's jazz song, a bright beam of light from up in the rafters nearly blinded him, causing him to smash his elbow into the keys, startling everyone in the auditorium. "Jesus, what the hell was that?"

“Duncan!” Nancy screeched. “Get your mind out of the gutter and play my song!”

"Y-yes, ma'am!" Duncan straightened out the sheet music for 'Honeysuckle Rose' and started to play the first few notes. Nancy started to sing:

_Every honeybee fills with jealousy_

_When they see you out with me_

_I don´t blame goodness knows_

_Honeysuckle rose_

_When you're passin' by flowers droop and sigh_

_And I know the reason why_

_You're my sweet goodness knows_

_Honeysuckle rose_

“That’s it!” Simon whispered in Reid's ear. “This is exactly who we’re looking for to play Evelyn!”

"But you said you wanted fresh blood," Reid replied, remembering what he told Katharine. He’d never lie to her.

“I know, but when Nancy Bianca Eliza Finch auditions for you, you never turn her down. She’s the whole package, just like Evelyn was! I already knew she’d be the best candidate.”

Unbeknownst to everyone, Julian and Peter were watching Nancy's audition unfold from the catwalk in the rafters, prepping for the ensuing chaos by tying a thick piece of rope into a noose. Roxanne waited down in the wings by the old interior access panel, her hand gripping a rusty, red lever that hadn't been touched in decades, not since the incident where a drunken man became burnt to the crisp from the sparks that flew across the theater. As Peter shoved the noose into a gap in the gridlocked floor, Julian glanced down at Roxanne and slowly raised up his open palm, crooking his fingers down to simulate a countdown from _five... four... three... two..._

_One._

“Let her rip!” With a sardonic giggle, Roxanne pulled down the lever.

"Oh, what's happening!?" Nancy immediately stopped singing as a multitude of sparks shot out from the wings, ricocheting off the access panel and flying like fiery bullets in her direction. She ducked for cover, huddling in her mink furs to keep herself safe.

“It’s the Phantom!” Simon leaped out of his chair. “You were right, Rebecca!"

“Simon, sit down!” Rebecca pushed Simon back down to his seat. “Do you wanna get killed?”

“Did you just say _Phantom?_ ” Nancy's head shot up from out of her furs. “Are you telling me this godforsaken Palace is _still_ cursed by that miserable old ghost?”

Rebecca and Simon exchanged looks with one another. Dare they risk losing their potential leading lady?

“Oh, no!” Simon then said with an awkward laugh. “That is only the story we’re telling with our play, Ms. Finch! The Palace is not _currently_ haunted. Ghost activity hasn’t been spotted here in at least a few years.”

“Yeah,” Rebecca said hesitantly, “no ghosts here whatsoever! Whatever happened back there was probably just a malfunction or something. I'd have to ask Jim."

“Will we still be seeing Sierra today then, Ms. Finch?” Reid asked Nancy nervously.

“If what I tell her doesn’t frighten her to death!” Nancy replied with a vicious hiss that made Reid flinch. A nearby curl of smoke floated past her eyes, and the strong stench of smoke engulfed her nostrils, making her cough. "D-Duncan? What's happening?"

“Ms. Finch, your furs!” Duncan shouted. "They're burning!"

“ _Für die Liebe Gottes!_ ” Nancy wailed in a warbly pitch higher than her own singing voice. She struggled to fight off her burning furs as hysteric tears rushed down her heavily made-up face. “My precious mink furs!”

Julian held back a laugh underneath his fist. His plan worked, so far. All he needed to do now is to remind the young lady who taunted Katharine where her dignity should be kept and all would end well. He did this all for Katharine, his sweet Angel of Music. After what happened in the past, he wouldn't let anyone stop him from training such a beautiful voice and therefore bring Evelyn Crane back to life. He’d seen the beginnings of the starlet’s career, singing in the Palace before agents discovered her. There wouldn't have been any Evelyn Crane films if it weren’t for the Palace and her intervention, after all. Julian made sure he’d do the same for Katharine.

_Let me have this moment to show my love for her, my dear Palace..._


	6. I Am The Mask You Wear

As if suffering through Nancy Finch’s ear-splitting shrieking wasn’t enough torture for Julian and his minions, then they certainly weren’t prepared for Sierra to beat her aunt to the punch when it came to singing so loudly and horrendously off-key that she might’ve been able to summon the rest of the undead from their graves.

“My ears!” Peter held his gloved hands to his ears. “Sir, make her stop! Please!”

The wrinkles in Julian's forehead deepened as he narrowed his eyes at the vile girl strutting about the stage. She sang some banal tune about making it big in showbiz, a song he would've heard in some dismal Shirley Temple film. Whatever happened to the smoky-voiced songstresses chirping tunes of distant romances and idealistic dreams? Did modern music have no class whatsoever? He might be old-fashioned in taste - and he wasn't afraid to admit that - but he wondered, just for a moment, if society had outsmarted itself and ultimately fell to corruption. Life back in his day used to be so much... _simpler_. Nowadays, it seemed to be an arms race over everything. Either way, he never heard a song so god-awful before, not since the time a trespasser played some obnoxiously loud poetry reading from his portable radio as he graffitied the staircase.

Back in the audience, Rebecca buried her fingers into her blonde hair, rubbing at her temples. They only made it to the second audition and _already_ she wanted them to end. What made Brooks think he knew everything there was to know about Evelyn and her career? Last time Rebecca checked, Evelyn didn’t have the bubbly, overly saccharine personality of a child star in some vapid television show. Evelyn is a star of elegant grace and poise, a siren of cinema, and the only way to cast her correctly is to find the woman who could easily slip into that personality and also be able to tackle the horrors of her past. _Anyone_ would've been better than Sierra to play the role she labored several weeks writing to the best of her ability, with only sparse newspaper clippings and faded movie magazines to help her. Brooks wouldn’t settle for this, however; he only liked to cast the pretty faces, the familiar names.

“Ms. Scieszka?” Reid leaned over to Rebecca’s seat. “You okay?”

“My coffee please, Segal.” Rebecca pathetically reached her arm out for her cherished cup of black coffee. Once Reid handed it to her, she gulped down the bitter, hot liquid as if it didn’t even bother her. 

"Jazz hands!" Sierra stretched out her hands and shimmied her hips back and forth as if she danced to a charting pop hit and not a song from a relatively obscure musical that Auntie Nancy personally chose for her. Noticing the crew's bored looks, she threw in a series of high, _Chorus Line_ -esque kicks, smiling over her extended leg at Reid - the Reid Segal all theatre fangirls pined for and wrote sappy fanfiction about on LiveJournal. She didn't even want this role - who the hell still watches Evelyn Crane movies that are over fifty years old? But this role held the opportunity to share the stage with Reid Segal, then _of course_ she'd take the part! Mr. Brooks could easily make her Auntie Nancy's understudy. She needed to go somewhere huge, be with someone huge... and the chance stood right in her path!

"She's a little bit... high-strung, wouldn't you say?" Julian teasingly dangled the noose over the catwalk. Peter, instantly recognizing one of his boss's many, many puns, nodded and chuckled under his breath. "There'll be breaking _noose_ in Carey tonight. It’ll choke them up… it's best not to leave them hanging."

" _'Cause I was born to entertain!_ "

Sierra landed into her final pose, oblivious to the thick noose hurdling down from the rafters and making a beeline for her head. As soon as the noose made impact with her head, she collapsed to her knees, eyelids fluttering as the pain began to sweep through her head.

"My God!" Simon threw down his clipboard and fled for the stage with Reid and Rebecca in tow. He bent down next to Sierra and picked up the item that fell from the rafters - a sturdily tied noose made with a thick piece of rope. "Those ghosts won't leave us alone!"

"M-Mr. Brooks?" Blood pooled out of Sierra's mouth as she tried to speak. "M-my head hurts..." Her vision turned into a wash of color, an incomprehensible mess of lights and sounds, as she took one last breath and slipped into the cold void of consciousness.

Julian glided over to the ghost light standing in the wings, hiding behind the curtain. _Ghost light, shmost light, silly mortals with their superstitions and cautionary tales._ A mere lightbulb can't keep him away. He'd been here for the past eighty-or-so years and not once did the mortals successfully repel him from his true resting place. As long as the Palace may thrive, then he will be here to stay. To think that some fool would ever dare seize him from his beloved Palace may as well been thinking with a lobotomized brain.

"That's a flipping noose, Brooks!" Rebecca snatched the noose from Simon and examined it closely, trying to find bloodstains or any noticeable evidence. "Whose idea of a sick joke was this?"

"That was not a joke, Rebecca..." Julian's voice echoed across the stage.

"Who said that?" Rebecca shot up and looked all around the stage. "Show your face, you coward!"

"Rebecca..." Julian chuckled sardonically. He loved playing this game of cat and mouse, drifting to various parts of the auditorium without being seen - one of the many advantages of being a revenant. "I'm right behind you, Rebecca..."

"It's the Phantom _again!_ " Simon exclaimed. "He's here!"

“He’s right!” Duncan added. “I saw him up in the flies when I played for Ms. Finch!”

"Jesus Christ Superstar!" Rebecca stomped her foot into the stage and sighed in exasperation. "Segal! Take Chastain to wherever this place's first aid is, please!"

“Will do, Ms. Scieszka.” Reid bent down and carefully lifted the limp Sierra into his arms. “Is there anything I need to tell Nancy—"

“Hey, y’all, what’s going on?” Jim, having heard the commotion from the lobby, entered Auditorium 3 through the orchestra level entrance curtain.

“Sierra just passed out,” Reid told Jim worriedly, “and with all the crazy things that have happened here, I think stranger things are afoot.”

“Do you have anything to say about all this?” Rebecca charged toward Jim, shoving the noose in his face. “People are nearly getting killed here!”

“So now you believe me,” Jim told her grimly. “Most don’t believe the stories until it’s too late. Unfortunately, these kinds of things do happen, especially in this specific auditorium. This happens to be the Phantom’s number-one haunting spot.”

“And I wonder whose smart idea it was to hold auditions in here…” Rebecca seethed under her breath, glaring at Simon.

“Ma’am, I’m very sorry about all the inconveniences. I know I should’ve been here watching over y’all, but I had to send some important paperwork over to Legendary Truth. They want any evidence they can get about the Phantom. Rumor has it the Spirit Seekers want to reopen their investigation once they’ve dealt with the Fear demon over in Florida. I told them it’s a bad idea, but—”

“Just tell me what you know about the Phantom, please!”

“Oh, all right. Ghosts don’t like to be talked about, so I got to be careful with what I’m about to tell you.” Jim cleared his throat. “The Phantom really doesn't like when anyone disrespects the Palace. He's super strict when it comes to people following proper movie theater etiquette. No talking, no texting, this and that. He's always believed cinema is a sacred art form that must be protected at all costs... even when there's no movie playing. This place is like his church… you wouldn’t dare show disrespect to a place of worship, would you? That’s why our ushers and usherettes are fully trained to make sure all our patrons follow the rules, because if they don’t…” He shuddered. “Look, I’ve been working here since the eighties. I’ve seen many things happen. Fires, floods… monsters ripped from the silver screen.”

“What’re you, crazy?” Rebecca raised an eyebrow. “Movie monsters can’t come to life!”

"Oh, but here, they can, Ms. Scieszka. I've seen Dracula drain a woman's blood, the Night of the Living Dead devour a whole audience. The Phantom will use any means he can to make blood spill, and with these notes he's been sending to you and your team..." Jim pulled out one of the notes from his pocket, specifically the one about Katharine. "If you don't give him what he wants, this will close us faster than the fire.” He glanced over at Simon and scrunched his face in disapproval. "Your business partner doesn't seem to be aware of that."

“He usually isn’t,” Rebecca remarked. “That man could bring in a whole horde of Kerezans just because he gave them leftover food from the diner or something. I’m telling you, one wrong move out of him and we’ll all be rotting in our graves soon enough.”

“We’ll need to make him more aware in the long run. But for now, while the Phantom is still showing signs of aggression, I say you should have Katharine sing next, just to see what kind of reaction you’d get out of him. He wants _her_ for the lead after all.”

 _Katharine._ Julian nearly dropped his flashlight as her voice crept inside his head, that sweet voice that soothed the savage beast. These fools had never borne witness to a voice like hers. He warned them, hadn't he? If they dare cast anyone else as Evelyn Crane, then disastrous events beyond their control will ultimately doom their little production. They _were_ performing in a house with a curse on her, after all. 

“Have Katharine Brody sing _now_?” Simon rose to his feet. “But we must keep to schedule!”

"Let her sing for you, sir." Jim caught a hazy, tall shadow lingering in the darkness of the wings. He knew he'd be here. Only the best of the best performed in the Universal Palace Theater and the Phantom disliked any substitutes to the matter. "If you don't, you may as well be risking more lives as you've already done today."

* * *

Katharine paced around the lobby murmuring the lyrics to her two pieces as a distraction from the chaos ensuing in Auditorium 3. From what she overheard, Nancy and Sierra, who were more qualified for the Evelyn role based on their status in the Rep alone, had both their auditions cut short due to dramatic, unforeseen circumstances. A smoldering electrical panel, a noose that fell from the rafters... it couldn't have been anyone else but Julian trying to spook off her competition, and successfully at that. The tricks he played on them weren't of a fatal matter, thank God; in fact, they were just like all the pranks he played on her, startling her as she cleaned. There wasn't much use trying to protest against him, now anyway. What if he stopped his lessons with her?

 _If he only wants to play his tricks,_  Katharine thought, _then fine. I'll let him play his tricks for now. Just as long as he doesn't kill them..._

“Katharine?” Jim rushed into the lobby and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Change of plans. The production team wants you to see you now.”

"What’s going on?" Katharine asked him. "The others left once they heard Sierra screaming." Not all of Carey’s population had been accustomed to spur-of-the-moment undead sightings, unlike Katharine and Jim.

"He..." Jim lowered his voice to a whisper. "I know about the Phantom's obsession with you, Katharine. Don’t ask how I figured it out. You’re in a great deal of danger—"

"His name is Julian." Realizing what she said, Katharine shook her head and looked away from Jim. To her, Julian was more than just the Phantom. Composer of music forever hidden to the world, Usher who'd been wronged for his whole life... someone she, as much as she didn't want to admit it, very much admired. She feared him with every fiber of her being, and yet, she did not hate him. Her father used to tell her how the saddest ghosts were usually the most vengeful, relentlessly searching for a purpose to live once they come back from the dead. Deep down inside, past the bitter animosity and dry cynicism, Katharine firmly believed that Julian Browning was one of those tortured ghosts himself, and perhaps a trace of humanity lingered in his dead soul. The right person just needed to unearth it.

"With all this weird stuff going on," Jim said, "they want to see if he'll do anything while _you're_ onstage. Maybe if you sing, he'll leave everyone alone. They're sort of at wit's end here."

Katharine sucked on her lip as she watched Reid carry Sierra out of Auditorium 3 and to a sobbing Nancy sitting on a nearby loveseat. As the diva buried her fingers into her niece's curls, crying in ugly sorrow, she shot Katharine a nasty, tearful glare behind her shoulder. A queasy feeling engulfed Katharine's stomach as she remembered the promise she gave to Julian. _Let them know that I am here._ She granted him permission to wreak his havoc, for her. But this is the price she must pay for her freedom from the ghosts and their wrath.

After a moment, Katharine gathered her belongings and followed Jim into the auditorium. The sound of her own footsteps unsettled her as she walked past the rows of velvet seats and onto the stage, lit by a blinding spotlight. As she settled toward the apron of the stage, she gazed out into the audience, catching the sight of the perturbed Mr. Brooks, the agitated Ms. Scieszka, and the concerned Reid.  _Reid._ That cold burst of nerves quickly turned to warmth as he gave her a small, uneasy smile. He hadn’t heard her sing live since that _Joseph_ production. She eagerly wondered what he'd think of her voice now, especially with Julian's tutelage taken into account.

What Katharine didn’t know was that three pairs of cold, undead eyes watched her as well, scattered across the rafters and the wings. Roxanne and Peter leaned over the rafters – carefully so they wouldn’t be seen – at the young lady their boss pined for since she started working at the Palace a few months ago. Like vampires, they smelled her human blood, sweet and ambrosial, and admired the healthy glow in her otherwise pale skin. They didn’t necessarily see Katharine as some sort of theatrical goddess as Julian did, but as a pawn to advance Julian’s rank in the heraldry of Icons. Out of the other four - chaos, death, sacrifice, and legend - vengeance reigned above them all, for vengeance is the very thing that resurrects the dead and makes them crave control. It is how Fear will eventually rule, sweeping mortals off the Earth for the plague that will bring devastation to them all. _But the boss has become so distracted these days,_ they thought.

Julian wrapped his fingers around the ghost light pole and straightened his posture – as if he couldn't get any straighter. What shall she sing for them today? A romantic Andrew Lloyd Webber ode? A fiery Stephen Sondheim ballad? He’d gotten a peek at her repertoire, and if his ability to read sheet music on the fly hadn’t faded, then Katharine acquired quite the collection of songs. If only he knew how to play them on the organ, to please her. She’d get a real kick out of that.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Brody, what piece did you say you chose for your classical?” Rebecca asked Katharine from the audience.

“I said,” Katharine began, stepping closer to the front of the stage, “I’ll be singing 'The Devil’s Love' by Julian Browning.”

“C-could you possibly sing something else, Ms. Brody?” Simon asked her nervously. “I… I know this is a _very_ last-minute decision, and you’ve probably rehearsed extensively—”

“Mr. Brooks, please.” Reid turned to face Simon in his seat. “It’s just a song.” Then, he turned back to Katharine and flashed her that beautiful smile of his again. “Whenever you’re ready, Katharine.”

Julian stifled a laugh underneath his hand.  _What a strange reaction,_  he thought.  _Do they not know real music unless it’s thrust right into their faces?_

Katharine smiled at Reid and placed the photocopied sheet music on Duncan’s piano. As the first notes hit her ears, memories of standing in Julian’s lair and her lessons with him filled her mind. “Straighten your back,” he’d tell her, “don’t hunch over like Quasimodo. At least you have breath, don’t forget to use it. And most importantly of all things… _knock them dead_. I don’t mean that literally, of course… though wouldn’t that be a pleasant surprise…”

Unlike the auditions of Nancy Finch and Sierra Chastain, nothing out of the ordinary happened during Katharine's audition - no sudden sparks, no falling nooses. Simon, Rebecca, and Reid watched Katharine with the rapt attention one would give upon first watching a spectacular film, laying their eyes upon the beautiful, Technicolor images progressing on the screen. Not once did Katharine’s voice crack, nor did her notes fall flat, despite being absolutely tired from the hours she spent underneath the theater, singing the doomed aria until her ribs ached. Julian truly trained her for perfection, if such a concept even existed, and if she wasn’t cast as Evelyn, then to Hell with those who don’t fall in love with art at first sight.

Amazement remained fixed on Reid’s face. To think the young woman singing this dark song was the same girl who sang peppy musical fare a few years ago, dressed in that pretty blue dress speckled with patterns of larkspurs with her hair tightly braided around her head. Innocence beamed brightly in both their eyes and smiles as they shared many moments together in their youth, from kayaking down the Ohio River one weekend to obnoxiously performing a reenactment of _High School Musical_ in Lacey’s backyard. He hadn’t seen Katharine since then. Touring got lonely when you were many, many miles away from your loved ones, so to find a familiar face amongst the anonymous ghosts of Carey, both living and dead, was a very well-needed surprise. The ghosts that haunted Katharine won’t bother her anymore as long as he’s around to help her overcome her fears. He did it then and he’ll do it now. He loved Katharine Brody, and he wasn’t afraid to admit it any longer.

Katharine locked eyes with Reid as she sang, her shoulders visibly dropping into more of a relaxed posture. _Oh, Reid,_ she thought, _if only you knew what I’m going through._ Aside from Lacey and perhaps Jim, Katharine had no one to talk to when it came to confronting the horrors of the Universal Palace head-on. To reluctantly enter a serial killer’s domain every night felt like sacrificing her soul to that Fear demon that reigns down below. Her only immunity was her voice. If she didn’t have the voice, she’d be hanging just as all the others did. Ushers and usherettes didn’t last that long in the Palace – two years, at most, before Julian deemed them unfit for their role in some meticulous way that wouldn’t have disturbed the average person. It’s how Jacob died – deny the tragic tale of the Usher and it will lead you to your death, for vengeance is the only thing that kept this theater alive.

Meanwhile, back in the central balcony, the Palace’s most devoted ushers (and usherette) had gathered together to watch the performance unfold. Roxanne noticed how Julian’s grip tightened around his flashlight in some disgusting implication she didn’t want to know and rolled her eyes in dismay. If only she was able to sing just like Katharine, maybe then she’d get more appreciation around these parts. She knew Julian since the 1950s, a few years or so after he started haunting the Palace. She’d shown him much more devotion than any other woman in the world, and he had the nerve to stake out a mortal woman whose father he murdered for trespassing upon undead ground?

What Roxanne didn’t know was that Julian clenched his flashlight not out of adoration for Katharine’s performance, but betrayal. Why was she making eyes at that insolent boy staring up at her like a dog in need of water? She may not have known it yet, but she will be _his_ in a matter of time. These auditions proved a beautiful talent such as hers couldn’t run rampant in the world; it would only crash and burn, outshined by other decadent talents… exactly what happened to Evelyn. Before Julian even got the chance to inform Ms. Crane how much he adored her, how her voice lifted his spirits and cast his demons away, she disappeared without a trace, never to be seen again. The canary needed to be locked up in her cage so that she didn’t croak, not just in a metaphorical sense. Then, at the right moment, and only then, will she be able to take the other's breath away. It's the reason why he wrote 'The Devil's Love', anyway... his heart belonged to her.

“Roxanne…” Not taking his eyes off the stage, Julian bent a crooked finger, beckoning the usherette to his side.

“Yes, sir?” Roxanne slowly strode over to Julian's seat, placing a hand on its edge.

“Dispose of the Chastain girl for me. Bring Peter with you.”

A wicked smile graced Roxanne’s face. “Of course, sir.” She tapped Peter’s shoulder as she turned to exit the balcony, gesturing for him to follow her.

As Katharine held the last note – a high E flat – a sensation of wooziness overcame her as she gazed out into the audience, specifically the area of the central balcony. In the darkness, a ghostly figure lit only by a faint light emanating from his hands watched her. Katharine’s heart sank to her stomach. Perhaps Julian didn’t like hearing his song out in the wild, where people can easily replicate it and in turn desecrate its meaning. She didn’t mean any harm… she only wanted to honor him and his music, maybe even shock the production team. This song meant so much to her, and to sing it for the team served as her own form of defiance, a way to tell them, "I know of the ghost you're writing about and who he really is. Don't bring disgrace to his name, for he is listening."

Julian disappeared while she sang her jazz piece, ‘If I Give My Heart to You’, originally by Doris Day. Katharine envisioned herself again as Evelyn, standing in the Universal Palace’s lobby, singing to several of her fans and onlookers. The further she delved into the song, the more the onlookers’ appearances flickered like a light, switching from lively and colorful to savaged and dull, transforming back into their ghostly states Julian ushered them to once they committed their sins of misbehavior. Like double images, they crept into that blurry line between fantasy and reality, until Katharine began to see – or maybe it was just her imagination – that they all sat in the veloured seats, screaming and crying at her, begging for release from this elegant prison.

"You are out of harm's way," Julian once told her, after one of their lessons. "Those old ghosts will not harm you as long as you continue to show your devotion to this Palace... and to me..."

 _And she tried._ She desperately tried, warning others of the strict rules and caring for the Universal Palace as if she called this place her home, too. All she desired was freedom from a fate worse than death, the ability to live freely, not haunted by the past. Julian will never let her go, for she too has been claimed by the Palace and her curse, biding her time until she joins her coworkers on the rafters, or perhaps her father in the underground... if his soul still even remained...

Mr. Brooks and Ms. Scieszka didn't have much to say to her when she finished her audition. Ms. Scieszka may have remarked, "Well, at least we got through at least one audition without any incidents," but Mr. Brooks remained silent, obviously horrified by the events that transpired earlier with Nancy and Sierra. "I'm not being negative," Katharine overheard him whisper as he and Ms. Scieszka left the auditorium, "I'm just nervous!"

Katharine stepped off the stage and anxiously looked around the auditorium. Did Julian have anything to say about her performance? Did she do 'The Devil's Love' justice? She hoped to God she didn’t anger him to the point where he’d want to kill her…

“Katharine!” Reid waited by the exit curtains with a familiar golden necklace in his hands, admiring the heart-shaped charm in his palm. “I’ve got something for you!”

"Reid!" Katharine rushed up to him and squealed at the gold necklace she thought she'd never see again. "Oh my God, it's my father's locket! I've been looking everywhere for this!" She gathered up her hair in her hand. "Could you put it on for me?"

"You left it at Hawthorn closing night of Joseph." Reid fastened the locket around her neck. "I've been holding on to it since, like, forever..." He chuckled sheepishly. "I wanted to give you it earlier, but I knew you weren't feeling well."

"Well... there was a reason for that." Katharine gestured for Reid to start making his way out of the auditorium. 

"What? Is it the Phantom?"

Katharine nodded. "I sang his song, and I think I've upset him."

"Upset him? What do you mean? You know, everyone's been talking an awful lot about this Phantom lately. Are you sure he's—"

"Don't let him hear us." Katharine escorted Reid to behind one of the staircases in the lobby. "All I can tell you is that he..." She tried to form her thoughts into a state of coherency. "He's more than what he lets on. Don't believe all the rumors you hear."

"Katharine, something's up with you." Reid gently rubbed her arm. "How about you stay at my place tonight? I'm half an hour south from here."

"Reid, there's nothing 'up' with me," Katharine told him sternly, drawing away from him. "If he sees us together, he's not going to be happy. You have to listen to me. He's watching our every move!"

Reid sighed. "I think you're stressed out, Katharine. And I totally get that. We'll head over by my place as soon as I'm done giving my notes to Brooks and Scieszka, okay? Two minutes. That's it. And then, we'll be out of here."

Katharine waited by the breakroom as the production crew traded their notes, tapping her foot anxiously against the floor. _It's been more than two minutes,_ she thought as she glanced at the portrait of Evelyn Crane next to her. Jim must've cleaned the glass, as the imprint of Julian's lips wasn't there anymore. Curiously, Katharine ran her fingertips along the glass shielding the portrait, trying to find a resemblance between Evelyn and herself. Sure, they had the same color hair, and perhaps the same facial structure, but what did Julian _really_ see in her that reminded him of Evelyn?

"You look just like her." Julian's voice, stilted yet calm, emerged from the depths of the Palace. Katharine jumped away from the glass, her eyes searching all around the lobby to find him. "You will bring her to justice on the stage, Katharine. You sang... beautifully tonight."

"T-thank you, sir." Katharine bashfully looked down at the floor. "Our lessons have really helped me."

"Of course. Though I must ask you, my dear..." A cold gust of wind circled around Katharine, forcing her to lift her head up as if Julian's fingertips rested underneath her chin. "Who was that boy in there that piqued your interest?"

“J-just a friend of mine," Katharine said guiltily. "I haven’t seen him in a long time.”

“That song was _not_ meant for him. It isn’t meant for _anyone_ aside from you and I.”

Katharine's heart plummeted to her stomach. So he  _did_  notice how she directed the song at Reid, and not to him. Not at first. 

"I will not allow a fool who believes basking in your glory will bring you great success," Julian continued. "You must remember that Evelyn is a role to be taken seriously, Katharine. There shall be no time for such... frivolities once you take the stage."

"I-I'm sorry..." Tears slid down Katharine's cheeks. "I tried to warn him, sir, but he wouldn't listen!"

"Shh... don't cry, my dear." Julian's voice slid slightly, yet it still maintained a bitter trace of his animosity. _His_ Katharine, showing her love for another, singing the song he wrote for no one but the star that once captivated his heart? "You sang it very, very well. You've taken my teachings to heart. But Katharine..."

“Y-yes, sir?”

"You have come to my Palace for one purpose and one alone... and soon, you must forget everything you thought you knew about how fate brought us together. So, tell me..." Julian stepped out from the shadows, his flashlight beaming in his hands. "Will you soon surrender yourself to me and the Universal Palace, or will you suffer at the hands of justice... just as your father has done?"

“Katharine?” The locked doorknob to the breakroom rattled as Reid called for her. “Katharine, the door's busted! Can you let us out?"

“Don’t listen to that ignorant boy.” Julian reached his gloved hand out to her. “ _You must love_ me _, Katharine…_ ”

Katharine nearly took Julian's hand, yet a creeping shred of suspicion barely held her back. Although she was extremely grateful for her teacher and the tidbits of information he shared with her about Evelyn and the Universal Palace's prime, Julian still murdered those who broke the rules and showed no remorse for doing so. These days, playing along with an Icon's mind game usually resulted in a death sentence. For decades, many met the end of his rope. If she made one wrong move, she'd be next.

_It's better to placate him than to provoke him..._

"Katharine!"

The breakroom door sprang free. Julian hissed under his breath and flicked his flashlight off, hastily retreating to the entryway of his lair.

"Reid!" Katharine covered for Julian, stepping in front of the gate to hide his exit. "Did you fix the door?"

"Yeah. Turns out the doorknob gets jammed all the time, so we had Jim stick a pin through the keyhole, and that seemed to work." Reid's face crumpled in concern. "Were you talking to someone out here? I could've sworn I heard another voice."

"No." Katharine shook her head. "I guess you've got quite the overactive imagination!"

"Hmm, maybe I do." Reid scratched the back of his head. "That's what you get when you binge drink coffee while doing script revisions with Rebecca. You ready to go?"

Katharine looked up at him with desperation wide in her eyes. "Take me away from here."

And at that very moment, as Katharine and Reid left the Universal Palace Theater hand in hand, Julian slashed the unconscious Sierra Chastain’s mouth open from ear to ear, permanently silencing her from shrieking another song ever again.


	7. The World of Unending Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Julian does (and says) some manipulative and stalker-ish things in this chapter (I mean, he has been for the whole story, but it's pretty serious here.) Please be aware of this if you decide to read any further! I tried keeping him in character the best I could.

**_Two evenings later_ **

_Click._

The gramophone in the lair began to play a tune too cheery for Julian’s taste, but pleasant enough to accompany him. The song was called "Hand in Hand Again", a wartime ditty about soldiers returning to their lady loves after fighting in the first World War. He used to hear it many, many times throughout the Palace's infancy, and quite frankly, he  _loathed_  it. It only reminded him of things he'd never have, things that slipped out of his grasp. Most of his family had passed on one after another, for starters. His sister, Edith, died at the young age of fourteen, succumbing to Spanish influenza. Then, his mother followed. At the same time, he'd been drafted to serve in the war, but the cataract developing in his right eye deemed him ineligible to serve. With no friends, family, or even a purpose to live, he'd been left totally alone, holed up in the estate his father left behind with no hope at all in his future. Fate watched him from above, laughing at the poor, misfortunate soul under her power. One tragedy after the next, with no silver lining in sight.

If it wasn't for the nickelodeon in the middle of East Main Street that showed scenics and the short films of the Miles Brothers, Julian honestly didn't know where he'd be. Mechanical wonders displayed a variety of images - sepia-toned, in most cases, but he used his imagination to fill in the color and lose himself in the fantastical stories people told through the marvelous medium of film. Dramas, comedies, he loved them all. Anything that offered an escape from the cruel world outside the Universal Palace's doors relaxed him more than any other drug in the world, numbing him even more than morphine. At times, he'd be completely oblivious to current events, and to be honest, he liked it that way. He'd rather be trapped in a celluloid world than that of bleak reality.

Then, over the years, the horror films popped up one by one, and Julian got his first taste of blood. Those scornful creatures shunned by humanity desired something out of their reach, much like him. Dracula craved blood, Imhotep fought for freedom, and the Phantom of the Opera yearned for love.

The Phantom... out of all the so-called Universal Monsters, Julian empathized with the Opera Ghost the most, relating to his quest of finding a woman who admired art and beauty much like he while spreading vengeance all the while. The Phantom of the Opera taught him vengeance is a powerful weapon – go forth and use it to demonstrate the power you hold inside.

Temptation is a fickle thing. Check that obtrusive text message, unwrap that candy bar, put your feet up on the upholstered seat in front of you. Julian never understood how anyone in their right mind could show such contempt for the beautiful images unfolding on the screen and the theater that showed them. Back in his prime, he would’ve never thought of killing another person just because they broke a rule. Kicked them out, maybe, but he’d never be that lethal. In death, he’s able to do so much  _more_. Broken rules, broken necks… it’s the only way to teach those foolish mortals to stay on their best behavior when in a place of sanctity. It was one of the many reasons why he became the condemned Phantom of the Universal Palace, as the mortals call him, as if he was some cautionary fable about being wary of strangers. He is the guardian of silver screen nightmares, the keeper of horror stories only moving pictures could bring to life, the protector of places where cinema is worshipped and should be kept sacred. 

With this play, Julian knew they'd get the story entirely wrong. They'll play him up as a cold-hearted monster and pay tribute to the rude patrons he murdered like they were martyrs dying for a great cause. Rehearsals began this afternoon, and just as he feared, they cast that snobbish diva Nancy Finch as Evelyn, her throaty voice stumbling over the high notes of a mournful tune Julian recognized as being from  _Murder at the Edge of Night_ , one of the best Evelyn Crane movies ever made. He couldn't picture that soulless woman as Evelyn no matter how hard he tried, and he'd met the real Evelyn, in her prime, nonetheless! No one held a candle to her spell of beauty and charisma, the magic of transcendence at her fingertips. Such a shame powerful magic like hers died out. He did everything he could to preserve it, not just on film but in the flesh as well. He followed her every film, every tabloid,  _every move_...

A gurgle disrupted Julian from his thoughts. The near-corpse of Sierra Chastain lay on the metal slab in front of him, her wrists and ankles shackled so she couldn't pry herself free. Blood stained the corners of her mouth and cheeks, or at least what was left of them. He'd cut them wide open to bring her the gift of a red smile and silence. His friend, a film director known as Paulo Ravinski, shot the idea to him one day.

"It's a vision I've had for a while now,” the Director had said. “How can you keep a woman beautiful even in death? You give them a smile as red as any other lipstick."

And that's precisely what he did. Granted, the kill didn't quite go the way he planned - the girl flailed and kicked helplessly, clawing at his skin as if he were some kind of predatory animal - but at least no one would ever hear the simpering girl's tone-deaf singing anymore.

“Immoral girl,” Julian hissed in her ear moments before. Once Sierra woke up, Roxanne lured her away from Nancy with the promise of an ice pack for her aching head. “This is what happens to those who  _can’t keep their mouths shut._ ” He never raised his voice; his vocal cords hurt too much for him to even try, hence his raspy, somewhat phlegmy voice.

“I didn’t know you were real!” Underneath his arm, Sierra sobbed like an ignorant victim of a powerful slasher – Jason Voorhees or Michael Myers, perhaps. “I… I thought you were just a ghost!” 

“ _Just a ghost?_ ” He inched his face close to hers, leaving about an inch or two of space between them. Sierra clenched her eyes shut and whimpered, trembling away in fear. “I am not  _just a ghost_ , girl. I am the price you pay when you do not follow the rules.”

Julian grabbed the coil of barbed wire sitting next to Sierra's corpse, and out of the corner of his clear eye, he noticed the photograph of Katharine he clipped out of the Carey Herald's latest issue announcing the cast for the play. Oh, she was so glorious, just as radiant as Evelyn herself, with her waves of brown hair and seemingly permanent forlorn expression on her face. Once Katharine ascended to her rightful place as the saving grace of the farce that dared to desecrate the reputations of both he and the Palace, she’d resurrect Evelyn  from the dead with her likeness alone. No more second chances, no more escape.

Katharine Brody’s soul now belonged to him.

* * *

A dull look resided on Katharine's face as she sat through yet another screening of _Dracula: Legacy in Blood_ , even when her favorite scenes played out on the screen. The whole movie had been tarnished for her after Jacob's death; those once beautiful yet horrific scenes now eerily mirrored her relationship with Julian. The more she watched Mina sigh and declare her love for a killer, the more Katharine realized her feelings for him may turn deadly in the long run. That's what the monster of these so-called love stories searched for, anyway - redemption at the hands of the innocent, the naive. Her father wouldn't want her to be like this in the presence of ghosts. He taught her to be brave in the face of danger, to stare them straight in their preternatural eyes as if she wasn't even afraid.

But it wasn’t easy to be fearless when the ghost that haunted you seemed to be  _in love_  with you, too…

“Katharine?” 

"S-sir?" Katharine's heart raced as she turned on her flashlight, waving the light all around to find whoever called out for her.

Thankfully, her Usher hadn’t come to visit her. It was only Jim pacing up the aisle to where she stood by the projectionist booth. A look of relief struck his reddish face. He’d been worried about her lately, checking up on her in the middle of every single showing of a movie, it seemed. It was usually a rare occasion for Jim to leave his office for something not involving police reports or identifying corpses of dead patrons or employees. Perhaps the production revitalized his protection of the Palace.

"Is everything all right in here?" Jim asked her. "No weird stuff happening?"

"Not that I've noticed." Katharine turned off her flashlight and tucked it underneath her arm. "Look, Jim, I..." Her throat swallowed her words whole. "I feel so terrible for what's been happening lately. With Sierra, Nancy...”

“It’s not your fault, Katharine,” Jim reassured her. “I told you, Legendary Truth and I have been working on bringing this place to peace. No more ghosts, no more murders. Imagine that. The Palace will be restored to her glory soon enough. It’s what your dad would’ve wanted.”

"But what’ll happen when we do the play, Jim? More people will be dead and buried by then!”

"I, uh..." Jim scratched the back of his balding head, at a loss for words.

"You said you know about him. The murders, his obsession with Evelyn Crane... and me. What can you tell me about Julian that I don't already know?"

"Shh!" An old woman leaned into the aisle from her seat, hissing at Katharine with a finger to her curled-up lips. "Will you keep it down?"

"Sorry, ma'am," Jim told the patron. "Managerial duties." He gestured for Katharine to follow him out of the auditorium and to the lobby. Once they reached a spot away from the mingling patrons, he asked her, "What do you mean by what you don't already know?"

"Like his origins. How did you meet him?"

Jim hummed in thought. "Well, for starters, he's always been here. Julian Browning never leaves his beloved Palace. He feels she'll be hurt if he doesn't stay. I'd see him everywhere. The balconies, the aisles, the ticket booth, just standing there, waiting for someone to break the rules. That milky eye of his gave me shivers I still feel today. From afar, he looks like any other man, but up close... he's the epitome of living death.

"But you asked me how I met him. Back in the eighties - before your time - some of my fellow ushers dared me to go down to his lair and steal his flashlight. They wanted proof that he still existed since they never believed me and my stories. So, I went down, but he wasn't there... yet oddly enough, he left his flashlight right next to his organ. I took it without a second thought, but the things I saw laying around captivated my attention more than any other old flashlight. He's got screenplays, music... all that's he written. I must’ve spent hours just reading what he had. Hell's Carnival sounded amazing, but no one would produce it because... well, it didn’t end up in the right person’s hands."

"And then what happened?" Katharine asked.

"I stumbled across a vault. It looked like something out of Harry Potter, complete with several locks. I still wonder what he's storing in there. Money? Jewels? Rare film posters? But before I could figure it out, he emerged from the shadows. He told me to leave and forget what I saw. I guess he didn't quite have the nerve to kill me for trespassing right there and then. But he's left me with this."

Jim pulled back the sleeve of his tan shirt to reveal a crusty pink scar on his forearm. Katharine grimaced and sucked on her lip. She knew that Julian's flashlight held some sort of supernatural properties to it, more than just ripping monsters from the silver screen, as Jim and her father claimed. It appeared as if it had the power to burn flesh, too.

"But what has he shown or told you, Katharine?" After a long glance at the burn, Jim readjusted his sleeve. "You never told me what happened after you ran off with your boyfriend last night."

"Reid’s not my boyfriend." Katharine looked around the lobby in fear that Julian may have heard her. Thankfully, the only other people in the room were the two concession stand employees Jay and Oliver and an usher and usherette who kept staring at her. "Anyway, when Reid and the others were talking in the breakroom, I was waiting outside in the lobby, Julian showed up. He didn't like that I sang his song for my audition, but then he told me, 'You must love me, Katharine.'”

"Oh, no..." Jim buried his face in his hands. "That explains the notes, all those incidents..." He looked up from his hands as he came to a grim realization. "Sierra."

"He's probably got Sierra in that vault!” Katharine cried in horror. “That’s why she went missing! He thought she was trying to take the role of Evelyn from me!”

“I’m going to the lair to find out.” Jim pulled a hefty ring of keys from out of his pocket. Among the keys to his office, the storage room, and the projectionist booth hung a key with a curved, long shape like the body of an undulating snake. “You can go ahead and finish up your shift.”

"No, I can do it! I'll go down there. Which one of these is the key to his lair?”

“This one.” Jim snatched the unusually shaped key off the ring. “But are you sure you know what you’re doing? I mean, do you think you can you handle it?”

"I've been down there before. I don't think there's anything out of the ordinary that I haven't seen. Not yet, anyway."

"Katharine, wait—"

Before Jim could stop her, Katharine marched up to the black gate and shoved the key into its lock, easily pushing the door open. Before she made her way through, she eyed that portrait of Evelyn again. Cobwebs sprawled over the metal frame, and the imprint of Julian's lips had reappeared on the glass. A chill went through Katharine's spine, a warning for her to stop and let Jim handle the dirty work.

But Brodys are brave. If her father was able to take on the ghosts haunting Hartford Mansion, she'd be able to tackle the very Phantom of this Universal Palace!

“Sir?” Katharine caught an array of mixed scents – earth, a faint scent of rose, an overwhelming amount of decay and blood – as she entered the dark, murky corridor that led to Julian’s underground home. “I’m here! I’m a little early. I hope you don’t mind—”

The sight that welcomed Katharine into the atrium horrified her more than any hanging corpse or severed limb she had ever encountered.

Julian stood hovered over a pale female corpse with her arms thrown over her head like a rag doll, threading the small spikes of a line of barbed wire in and through her brutally beaten mouth, nonchalantly whistling along to the jazz waltz playing on the gramophone near his organ. Any semblance of Sierra’s mouth was gone; instead, her jaw seemed to have been permanently ripped open, as if she became victim to the Jigsaw killer’s infamous Reverse Beartrap.

“Sierra!” Katharine stifled a scream underneath her hand, in turn suppressing the gag rising in her throat.

Julian glanced up from the metal slab Sierra lay on. A look of absolute bliss, like the look of a man greeted by his bride on their wedding day, overcame his face. 

“Oh, dearest Katharine…” He brought the needle away from the record and slowly approached her. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve been working on a surprise for you, my dear—”

“ _Don’t call me that!_ ” Sobs shook in Katharine’s chest as she cowered away from him. "Haven't you killed enough innocent people, Julian? Like Jacob, Brandon, Nick..." She paused, lip quivering, before adding, "My own father?!"

"I'd advise you not to bring your father into this, Katharine," Julian told her cautiously.

"I know you killed him, Julian. Steven Brody was a good man!"

“ _He disrespected my theater_.” Julian grabbed Katharine’s chin in his gloved hand. “Breaking and entering, pilfering through items that were not his own… I tried to warn him, Katharine, but his rude behavior will never be tolerated in  _my_ Palace. Rulebreakers are to be executed through the proper means.” He let go of her and turned his back to her, beginning to slowly wander across the atrium. “When my minions informed me the daughter of Steven Brody,  _the_  Steven Brody who tried to violate the Universal Palace and her purity had started working here, I was in utter shock. I would’ve had your neck in a noose just as swift as all the others, but your voice…” He chuckled bitterly. “You’re a lucky one, my dear… lucky that I met you when I did. I never forget a face. When you sang on the balcony… do you remember that?”

Katharine shook her head.  _I've never been to the Palace until I started working here,_ she thought.

“For years, I anxiously awaited your return, curious to see if that beautiful talent of yours had blossomed. And much to my surprise, it did, having matured just as much as the beautiful young woman in possession of such a voice.”

Katharine’s cheeks burned with an unwelcome blush.

“But I sensed something… melancholy about you. Dark thoughts clouding your mind,  _dangerous_ thoughts… and you let me know through the gift of song. The first song I heard you sing when you returned… hmm, how did it go…” Julian then began to sing, monotonously. “ _Maybe this time… I’ll be lucky… maybe this time… he’ll stay…_  And stay I did, waiting for you to come back day after day, just so I could hear your voice again. Not many actresses have cast a spell over me as much as you have, Katharine… not even Evelyn Crane herself.” 

Julian stopped in his tracks and glanced behind his shoulder at Katharine. The wide, bewildered look in her brown eyes told him everything he needed to know.

"Being an Usher is all I've known. Trapped in this Palace, disposing of those who dare to hurt her... only in motivation, of course. But you, Katharine..." He cupped her cheek in his gloved hand, moving aside tendrils of dark hair from her face. "You are my _muse_. You've resurrected everything that once kept me alive.”

Julian's face inched closer to Katharine's, so close his cheek slid against hers. His mismatched gaze held so many emotions all at once. Animosity, captivation, repent. She stared into his eyes long enough to even see tears form in them. Her heart remained torn – should she show no sympathy for this murderous man, or give in to his penitence? What did he know that the movies hadn’t already shown him? Being dead and bitter for all these years changed him into someone who had forgotten almost anything about love. She wanted to help him. She really did. But at the same time, he followed his own twisted code of justice-turned-vengeance that she'd never accept. 

_Zzz. Zzz._

Katharine's heart dropped at the sound of a familiar, grim buzzing. _Her phone!_ Julian hated cell phones, so much that he once jammed someone's leg into a stairwell merely for pulling theirs out in the middle of a showing. During their lessons, he always complained about how much of a nuisance they were, with their lights and sounds and colors.

"S-sorry, sir." She dared to reach her hand into her skirt pocket to pull out her phone and flick off the switch to silence it, unaware that something on the screen made the lovelorn look on Julian's face completely fade. "I forgot to put it on silent."

Julian snatched Katharine’s phone from her; it appeared so foreign, a modern contraption in his hand.

“Reid…” His eyes narrowed down at Katharine; the blazing look in them made her skin crawl. “Ahh yes… you seem to admire him very much, don’t you?”

“I told you he’s just my friend!” Katharine’s back stumbled into the wall behind her. A black candelabra pole stood mere feet near her. Maybe she could use it as a weapon if Julian tried to attack her, although being a Kerezan, he wasn’t that agile. She may have the upper hand here.

"I frighten you, don't I?" Julian stumbled toward Katharine, flashlight at the ready. "Oh, I tend to give people quite the fright these days. Maybe it's the milky eye... or the smell of death..." Then, unexpectedly, he charged up to her and slammed one hand into the wall, earning a startled shriek out of her. "You're just like all the others when they confront their karma! Trying to make up excuses, pleading for their lives! But you... you are exempt Katharine... for this living corpse _**loves**_ you! And you dared to betray me by making eyes with that boy as you sang the song I brought back from the dead for _you!_ "

Katharine trembled underneath Julian, her sobs nearly immobilizing her. No one _ever_ lived through Julian Browning’s vengeance and told the tale. Here she stood, the Christine Daae to his Erik, but instead of shaking and hiding her eyes at a gruesome face, it was a damaged soul she feared.

“Such a petulant girl you are, my dear. As the great Gaston Leroux once said, ‘If I am the phantom, it is because man’s hatred has made me so. If I am to be saved, it is because your love redeems me.’ You will sing  _only_  for  _me_. And to ensure that you do…”

Julian's hand drew back from the wall as he reached into the pocket of his gray trousers, pulling out a small, black box. Then, relishing in Katharine's terror, he slowly knelt down to one knee and popped open the box, revealing a gold ring encrusted with a single ruby in the center.

 _Oh no… oh no, oh no, oh no!_ Katharine’s mind screamed as she tried to wrestle her hand out of Julian’s, to no avail.

“It is not a request, Katharine.” Julian took the ring out of its box and forced it onto her finger. “As long as you want your freedom from my vengeance, you will wear this ring. If I happen to see you without it on,  _I will kill you._ ” He squeezed her hand tightly to stress his point. “You may resume your work in that boorish play, but if I see you gallivanting with that bright young thing who dared to flirt with you,  _I will kill you both._ The only reason why I keep you alive… is because  _I love you._  Fear can turn to love, Katharine. I am not the monster you think I am.”

 _No_ , Katharine thought, staring at him with cold eyes,  _I can’t feel anything for him. He’s an_ Icon _, one of Carey’s most infamous killers! I’m his Christine now… I always have been!_

Julian noticed her pensive look and let go of her hand. “You must go. But remember what I told you, Katharine. You will regret the day that comes when you do not follow the most golden of rules.” He leaned in close to her and kissed her forehead with his cold, clammy lips. “You are an angel, Katharine. Your loveliness far surpasses any music than I can ever play.”

“ _Fuck you!"_  

Katharine spun on her heel and dashed out of the lair, vigorously rubbing at her forehead.  _An undead monster kissed her. Her father’s murderer kissed her._ She’d been marked for death! All she wanted was to be loved for herself, not just her voice or kindness! He’d never know who she really was. Desire is a demon; when it takes over you, it strips you of your soul and changes you into the very thing you fear the most.

“Katharine!” Jim waited by the gate, holding it open for Katharine as she rushed back into the lobby. “Katharine, are you okay? What happened?”

“Don’t go down there!” Katharine's screams startled the patrons filing out of Auditorium 3. “He’s got her corpse! Sierra’s! And he gave me this!” She shoved her hand in Jim’s face, showing him Julian’s ring. “I tried warning you before, Jim, but you wouldn't listen! He’ll kill anyone just to get through to me!”

“Get yourself home, Katharine.” Jim stormed into his office to retrieve his cell phone. At that moment, Katharine remembered she forgot hers in the lair, and who knew what Julian may possibly do to it. “I’m calling the police. We’re going to bring him down!”

“That won’t be enough!” Law enforcement wasn’t enough to stop an Icon. The so-called Zombie Awareness Program recently formed by the Romeros might be enough… for only a few months. “He’ll kill them, too!”

“Katharine.” Jim stepped out of his office and placed his hands atop Katharine’s shoulders. “Go home. You need to get out of here, now. It's for the best."

Katharine breathed in deeply and nodded. Deep down inside, she prayed that Jim, familiar with Julian and a sliver of his true character, would be able to help her stop him from wreaking havoc on her and the production. Jim had been a friend of her father for several years; she faintly recalled Jim helping him with his very first investigation. She was there too, sixteen years old and oblivious to a ghost’s power, so they kept her away from the equipment, but she stumbled around and could’ve sworn she talked to a ghost, friendly yet bitter in his views of the world. Where was it? Katharine tried to remember. A drive-in? A prison? A schoolhouse?

No…  _a movie theater._

Back in the lair, Julian fiddled with the strange, mechanical contraption in his hands, his fingertips curiously gliding across the screen. Speech bubbles similar to those of a comic book's – half in blue, half in white – spelled out a conversation between Katharine and Reid, a plan for a presumed date.

 **Katharine:** I get off at 10:30 I’ll be there an hour after that

 **Reid:** Ok, can’t wait to see you!

A mischievous smirk graced Julian’s face. He brought his fingers to the keyboard and typed,

 **Katharine:** Change of plans; I can’t see you tonight. In fact, I won’t be able to see you ever again. I must remain true to my Angel of Music.

Julian pressed the Send button and prepared himself for the chaos to unfurl.  


	8. It Is to Be War Between Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re enjoying this fic so far, please leave comments and/or kudos! I’d really appreciate any thoughts you guys might have!

“I must remain true to my Angel of Music?”

Reid kept reading the text message he received from Katharine, unsure of how to react. The first thing that came to mind, oddly enough, were the many scenes in the play between Evelyn and her lover Norman Edwards, and the startling connection between them and the little details he knew of Katharine's relationship with Julian. Like Katharine, Evelyn begged for freedom from the Phantom's wrath, afraid to perform or even attend movie premieres since he'd always be there, watching in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to take her under his clutches. No one listened to her cries for help until the very last second, when Norman saved her by blinding the Phantom with the light from his flashlight and stringing his body back up on the rafters using the same noose that once strangled him. A certain line of Evelyn's reminded Reid a lot of Katharine's text:

"I cannot go with you, Norman! He's got me in his sights and he won't let me go!"

Then, in the present, there were the notes the Phantom sent to him and the production crew. The way he described Katharine were words only an obsessive stalker might utter: "The seraphic voice of an Angel", "making this old spirit feel alive", "do not try to bring her down." A sickening pang crept through Reid's stomach as everything pieced itself together in his mind. Something about Julian Browning changed Katharine from the once carefree, spirited girl he deeply admired to a young woman always on the verge of tears, her body trembling even when the room’s temperature dropped the slightest bit. Studying the Palace to ‘get a feel for Evelyn’s character’, the tired look in her eyes, her pale pallor… the way she begged him not to speak to her in the empty auditorium…

"You all right, man?" Reid's roommate, Jonathan, entered the living room of their apartment. His face fell in concern when he noticed Reid sitting frozen on the couch with his phone in hand.

"Yeah." Reid gazed down at the text message again. The more he read the words, the more he started to question whether or not Katharine really wrote them. "I'm getting really worried about Katharine."

"You mean the girl who was here last night?" Jonathan shrugged and took a seat next to Reid. "She did look pretty sad. Couldn't even play a game of Pictionary without her getting freaked out over one of the words. But she might be going through some shit right now, you know?"

"She hasn't been acting like herself since we've started working on this play and I think I'm figuring out why. It's got to do with that Phantom!"

"The... Phantom?" Jonathan raised a confused eyebrow. "Oh, come on, Reid! Do you really believe in all that? Ghosts aren't real!"

"Not until you've been in the home of one." Reid rose to his feet and swiped his car keys off the dining table. "I've got to make a run to the Universal Palace."

* * *

Police sirens blared, casting glowing red and blue lights on the Universal Palace’s blank, dusty marquee. Reid parked next to the curb, slamming his car door shut and rushing to the double-doored entrance as that tense feeling in his stomach transformed into an unsettling queasiness, and the blinding lights surrounding him only intensified this feeling even more. Why were the police here? What happened to Katharine? Did the Phantom do something to her that warranted the arrival of the police?

“Sorry, sir.” A gangly, unusually pale usher who glided in from seemingly out of nowhere stopped Reid the moment he crossed into the lobby. “The Universal Palace is closed for the evening.”

“Out of the way!” Reid pushed the usher aside and made a beeline for the concession stand. Two employees were busy wiping down the glass display case with fear wide in their eyes, occasionally glancing over at the yellow-taped crime scene to the left of them. “Um, excuse me? Hey!” Reid banged his fist on the display case to get their attention. “Do you know if Katharine’s still here?”

“Katharine?” One of the employees, a tall, dark-skinned young man named Jay, shot up from his knees, a box of various candies in his arms. “Sorry, man. She left about an hour ago. Said she wasn’t feeling well.”

“Damn it!” Reid breathed deeply and tried to compose himself. “What’s been going on here? Why have the police showed up?”

“Cops said they found a corpse underneath the theater,” the other employee, auburn-haired and freckled and with an askew nametag that read ‘Oliver’, told Reid. “They’re saying it’s that actress, Sierra Chastain.”

“They found her with her mouth all stitched up,” Jay added, “so they think someone who works here might’ve done it.” He shivered as he said, “I think it might’ve been the Phantom.”

“ _The Phantom?_ ” Oliver said loudly. “Jay, that’s, like, the third time he’s killed somebody this month alone! I swear to God I’m quitting tomorrow.”

“Guys, what seems to be the trouble here?” Jim strolled over to the concession stand, his posture straightening when he noticed Reid standing there. “Oh, Mr. Segal, I didn’t know you were here. Can I help you with something?”

"What happened to Katharine?" Reid got out his phone and turned it on to show Jim the cryptic text he received. "I got this really weird text from her. Angel of Music, must remain true... what is this all about?"

“I think this might explain it.” Jim reached into his pocket and pulled out Katharine’s phone. The screen was stained with blood and cracked in a spot or two. “The officers found this underground in the Phantom’s lair.”

“Underground?!” Reid’s voice nearly cracked in exasperation.

“He lives beneath the theater.” Jim rose his arms up in frustration. “I knew I should’ve listened to Katharine! That play has riled him up to the point where he’s trying to kill everyone involved in the production!”

"Katharine was right along! He’s killing people so she’s got no way out!" Reid lowered his voice to a whisper as a police officer stepped out of the entryway to the lair with a body bag slung over his arm. “Have they even found him?”

“There is no ‘finding’ him, Reid. He knows every square inch of this theater like the back of his hand. When the police arrive, he knows where to hide."

“Mr. Ward?” A bushy-eyebrowed, mustached police officer, Lt. Grimaldi, approached Jim and Reid. “We’ve searched every nook and cranny of this place and we haven’t been able to find any evidence regarding this so-called Phantom. All except for this.” He pulled out a bloodied popcorn box out of a plastic evidence bag and flung it at Jim. “I’ll ask you again… are you sure none of your employees are responsible for all this?”

“I’m sure of it.” Jim bent down to retrieve the box and chucked it into the nearby garbage bin. “I’m telling you, the only person who would ever commit such a crime like this is the Phantom himself! Haven’t you ever heard the stories?”

Lt. Grimaldi rolled his eyes. “I’m smart enough not to believe in ghost stories or gossip, sir.”

“It’s the Phantom’s motives we need to talk about here,” Reid added. “We believe he's stalking the cast members of Carey Rep’s latest play all to get close to Katharine Brody.”

“Who?”

“Daughter of the paranormal investigator Steven Brody,” Jim told him. “Legendary Truth, Spirit Seekers? Anyway, we’re thinking he's committing murder in Katharine Brody’s name and we’ve got no idea how to really stop—"

“ _James…_ ” Julian’s ghostly whisper echoed across the lobby, startling the three. “ _I thought you knew better than to tattle, James…_ ”

“Who said that?” Lt. Grimaldi grabbed his pistol off his holster and blindly aimed it toward a corner of the lobby. “Come out here with your arms up!”

“See what I mean?” Jim loudly whispered to Reid. “He can sense whenever people talk ill about him or the theater!"

" _Gunfire cannot stop me, Lieutenant..._ " Julian, invisible to the men, strolled over to Lt. Grimaldi and leaned right into his ear. “ _I think it would be wise if you_ don’t _shoot the messenger?_ ”

“Jesus Christ!” In his fright, Lt. Grimaldi fired a blank shot. The bullet ricocheted across the lobby before careening into a white, marble bust standing on a nearby podium, making it shatter into a dozen pieces of plaster.

“Lieutenant!” Jim and Reid rushed to Lt. Grimaldi’s side. “Are you all right?”

Lt. Grimaldi aggressively turned to Jim. “I don’t know what kind of tricks you’re playing, Ward, but once we get to the bottom of this, I swear to God you’re gonna be serving time at the state penitentiary!” He began to storm out of the lobby with a huff.

“Please, lieutenant, you’ve got to help us!” Reid grabbed onto Lt. Grimaldi’s shoulder, stopping him. “Katharine Brody is in danger, and nothing’s going to stop this Phantom unless we all try to figure this out together! I know it seems, uh… _silly_ that a ghost is doing all of this, but he _is_ real! You’ve got to believe Jim. This theater’s been cursed since the 1940s and not once has the Phantom ended his curse of vengeance!”

“Yeah, and I wonder why that is?” Lt. Grimaldi shook himself out of Reid’s grasp. “It’s all stupid superstition shit. Sierra Chastain was murdered, and one of you is making up stories to get yourselves out of trouble. There is no Phantom of the Universal Palace!”

At that very moment, as if on cue, one of the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling plummeted down to the marble floor, sending several small shards of glass in nearly every direction – even, miraculously enough, right into one of Lt. Grimaldi’s eyes, stabbing him through his cornea.

“SHIT!” Lt. Grimaldi hollered in pain and sunk down to his knees as a thick gush of blood trailed out of his eye and down his cheek. “MY FUCKING EYE!”

“Jay? Oliver?” Jim yelled, frozen in his spot. “First aid kit, now! And Reid, go get the Lieutenant’s backup if they’re still outside.” He sighed deeply and bent down to Lt. Grimaldi’s level to assist him. “This is going to be a long night…”

* * *

Reid knocked on the door of Katharine’s apartment, rocking back and forth on his heels nervously. He’d seen his fair share of the Universal Palace’s curse this evening, mainly the removal of a corpse and the utter incompetence of the police when it came to bringing down a murderous ghost. Before he returned to Carey, he heard murmurings of undead activity through the news and Facebook, finding photos of pale, corpse-like monsters and the bites humans sustained from them. Never did Reid believe he’d find himself in the middle of a murder mystery like this, potentially putting his life on the line to protect the girl he admired. He didn’t even know how to defend himself against a ghost as powerful as Julian Browning. Did he need to use garlic, a silver cross, fire?

 _No,_ he thought, _that’s too silly. At this rate, I’ll probably need a Necronomicon._

“Whatever you do, you’ve got to protect that girl,” Jim told Reid on his way out of the Universal Palace, once all the chaos had been cleaned up. “She’s been through an awful lot lately, with her dad disappearing and all. I know she’s brave, but she could use all the help she can get."

“Reid?” Lacey’s petite frame appeared in the doorway as she opened the door a crack, preventing Reid from seeing the inside of the apartment. “What’re you doing here this late?”

“Um, I wanted to see Katharine,” Reid said bashfully. “Is she okay?”

“I’m sorry, Reid, but she told me she doesn’t want to see anyone right now. She’s fine, but—”

“Let him in, Lacey.” Katharine said a few feet away from the door, her voice full of anguish.

“Um… okay.” Lacey opened the door wider, allowing Reid inside. “Don’t be too apprehensive with her, all right? This Julian stuff is really bothering her.”

Reid stepped into Katharine and Lacey’s apartment, a cozy retreat bathed in warm lamplight and shades of peach and apricot. Katharine sat nearby on a wicket ottoman, dressed in baggy purple sweatpants and a black tank top and her knees tucked up to her chest. Her dark brown hair was even more of a shaggy mess then it was the day of auditions, tangled and knotty as if she hadn’t brushed it in days. Dry streaks of black makeup stained her cheeks, an evident sign that she’d been crying.

“K-Katharine?” Reid nervously approached her. “Hey, I’m really sorry about—”

Then, Reid noticed the golden band topped with a ruby Katharine wore on her right hand. Her finger was noticeably purple underneath it. He couldn’t help but gasp; where did she get such a ring? Had the Phantom given it to her?

Katharine confirmed this as she looked up from her knees, gazing at Reid in fear. “It won’t come off. I tried everything, but it won’t budge.” Beginnings of a sob ebbed in her throat. “I’m scared, Reid. I don’t know what to do anymore!”

Reid bent down to Katharine’s level and caressed her cheek. His heart sank to his stomach when she flinched at his touch, but after a moment, she allowed him to stay. He could only imagine what horrors Julian subjected Katharine to, how he tormented her to the point where she became a shell of who she used to be. His other hand curled up into a fist at the thought. _This is a war I fight against him now._   _Hopefully, he’ll be smart enough to surrender once I show him how much devastation he’s brought to everybody._

“Katharine,” Reid began to say, “I know you didn’t—” He quickly stopped himself, shaking his head. He didn’t want to bring up the text or anything Phantom related right now, not when Katharine was in this much distress. “Look, I came here to let you know that I care about you. I really do. You’re not gonna fight this battle alone, because I’m gonna be right at your side. We’re…” He chuckled softly. “We’re gonna kick Fear’s ass! And I’m gonna help you. But you’ve got to tell me, Katharine…” Reid lowered his voice to a whisper. “What has he been doing to you?”

“Nothing,” Katharine said quickly, running her finger on the ruby absentmindedly. The petrified look in her brown eyes clearly told Reid otherwise. “He hasn’t done anything to harm me.”

“I don’t think so, Katharine,” Reid told her. “You know you can tell me if anything happened to you, right? Has he tried—"

“Julian would never hurt me!” Katharine said angrily. “What do you know about him anyway, Reid? Huh?” She paused for a moment and scoffed when she didn’t receive a reply. “You can’t just come here unannounced and think you can tell to my face that you know everything about Julian just because you’re playing him!”

“He’s an Icon, Katharine!” Reid cried, appalled by Katharine’s words. His theory seemed to be true; she’s under Julian’s control! “You’ve got to listen to me! He’s not your friend or your admirer, he’s the Phantom, he's trying to make you his just like he tried doing with Evelyn Crane!"

"Oh, so does that mean you're my Norman?" Katharine asked him dryly. "I thought you didn't want to play the dashing hero this time around, Reid."

"I..." He did just so happen to say that when they reconciled, but he didn't know he'd wind up being the next incarnation of Norman in real life! "I only want to help you, Katharine. All I know is that the Phantom is killing for you, and we've got to put an end to it."

"I don't know how many times I have to tell people this." Katharine held her head in her hands, her hair falling into her eyes. "You can't stop the undead. My dad's told me that so many times that it's been ingrained into my head. All you can do is play their mind games and hope for the best. It's like Chucky. You can only kill him so many times, but he always comes back."

"But what about the Phantom? He's been in the theater for such a long time. How can you repel a ghost from the place they love most?"

"You can't. The Universal Palace has always been Julian's home. And besides..." Katharine took a deep breath. "I don't want to betray him. Is it worth risking my life just to become even more of a victim than I already am? I can't do it, Reid. I have to keep on going until I know it's safe to fight back." After a moment, she asked him in a broken whisper, "Is it even my choice?"

"Of course it's your choice, Katharine," Reid told her calmly, "and we're all here to help you. We'll take this one step at a time, okay? It won't be easy, but in due time, I think we'll finally be able to—”

"Reid?" Katharine grabbed his hand as a spell of wooziness took over her body. "I... I feel sick all of a sudden..."

"I'll get her some water," Lacey said, running to the kitchen.

"Katharine?" Reid buried his hand in Katharine's hair and rubbed her back. "Katharine, it's okay. It's just me and Lacey. No one else is here. Don't worry..."

Katharine stared out into the distance, her vision becoming blurry as her queasiness intensified. In her mind, she heard an older man scream in agony as he flailed and kicked in someone's grasp, choking and gasping out for air... all at the hands of another man with a milky eye and a rope in his hands, chuckling maniacally under his breath.

" _Katharine..._ " Julian's voice echoed in her head. " _The things I do for your love, Katharine..._ "

"No!" Katharine screamed and tightened her grip around Reid's wrist. "He knows where I am! _He knows I'm with you!_ "

“What?” Reid, wincing through the pain rising in his wrist, shot up in alarm.

"H-he told me if he finds out I'm w-with you, he'll k-kill us both! He knows, Reid..." Katharine tugged on the ring, but it wouldn't even loosen. "It's the ring... it binds me to him! That's why I can't take it off! He knows everything! _He's going to kill us!_ "

Then, she collapsed into the ottoman as her world faded into black.

* * *

“All right, Depeche Mode… let’s dance.”

Jim cranked up the volume of his iPod and proceeded to mop the bloodied lobby floor, focusing more on singing along to "Strangelove" rather than his surroundings. Between the discovery of Sierra's corpse, Katharine's hysteria, and the unexpected eye-gouging-via-chandelier-glass-shards of Lt. Grimaldi, any hope Jim had for trying to make the Universal Palace a safer place dwindled entirely, as it has for the past twenty-five years. He'd never been too careful or wary of what the Phantom did to hold his reign over the Palace. Maybe if he had been, he wouldn't have to file police reports or repeal complaints from the Better Business Bureau every day.

It's why he preferred to lock himself in his office with his favorite music to keep him company rather than try to fight the evil himself. The demons of the past always came back to haunt him, those mutilated ghosts whom he could've saved back when they were still alive. Every single time, Julian beat him to the punch, disposing of the patrons in his usual unorthodox ways. There hasn't been a single soul he managed to save, and for this, he felt immense guilt.

He let Steven down. They worked as a unit, tracking down the vengeful spirits lurking in Carey's various locales in hopes of containing them within carefully bound crucibles. That's why he became the manager of the Palace in the first place - capturing Julian Browning, one out of the five Icons, had been one of their greatest goals. And it's why Katharine was made an usherette, too. Right before Steven embarked on his final investigation of the Palace, he told Jim, "If anything ever happens to me, make sure you keep an eye on Katharine. Have her help you with the mission. Make sure she never becomes bait."

And now, she's become more than bait. She's his own Christine Daae now, chirping songs to mend his twisted heart. There's no escape from that kind of fate.

A tap on Jim’s shoulder startled him from his work. _Odd,_ he thought, _Jay and Oliver left half an hour ago._  

“Playing loud music in the lobby is _very_ disrespectful, sir,” a sultry-voiced woman murmured into Jim’s ear.

“Jesus!” The mop in Jim’s hand clattered to the floor as the Phantom’s two minions – an usher and an usherette – glided over to him. “Oh, it's you two. At least your boss isn’t hanging around here for once.”

“I take offense to that, _James_.” A stern look crossed Julian’s face as he joined his minions, flashlight in hand. “But then again, you’ve been _very_ loose-lipped lately. You do know that silence is golden, don’t you?” He slowly shook his head in dismay. “Perhaps I haven’t… _properly_ taught you that lesson yet.”

"If this is about Katharine, then I want you to know I'm only trying to protect her." Jim bent down to retrieve his mop and held it out in front of him in defense. "She's been through enough because of you, Julian!"

"I thought we had a bargain," Julian said coldly. "In exchange for Katharine Brody's... exoneration, if you will, you'd warn the others what happens when they cross that special line between temptation and corruption. And clearly, you haven’t been doing your job. You know I don’t like when my Palace isn’t held to the highest standards of care…” At that moment, his glare loosened into a manic gaze, like that of a predatory animal’s when their prey crossed right into their path. “And I don’t like when people dare to defy my orders, either.”

“Well, consider my end of the bargain to be null and void!” Jim declared. “This isn’t about breaking the rules, or offering souls to that demon you’ve been talking about, or whatever! I’ve let you get away with way too much, Julian, and now I’m putting my foot down. I know you don’t approve of the play. I get it! But that doesn’t mean you can threaten the lives of the people involved in it! Especially Katharine's!”

Julian chuckled darkly. "The things I do for love should not concern you, Mr. Ward."

“You… _love her_?” Jim's stomach churned. Of course, he'd always listen in on Julian's rambles about how much he loved his theater, so much that Jim thought he may have been talking about a living woman, but never did he think he'd actually become obsessed with someone as vulnerable and naive as Katharine. “Oh my God… you’re sick. You’re fucking sick!”

“ _Lovesick_ is a more proper term.” Julian lunged toward Jim and grabbed his throat in his gloved hands. “If I can’t have Katharine, then no one will… and I will ensure that this happens through the most… _appropriate_ of means. Then, there’ll be no choice but for her to live out the rest of her days in my Universal Palace and pay homage to both music and cinema at my side…”

“I…” Jim struggled to speak, gasping out for air. “I used to think… there was… some good left in you, Julian. But that’s died along with you.”

“And so will whatever respect and dignity you have left for my theater… which, in your case, is none." Julian lifted up his arm, aiming the blunt end of his flashlight toward Jim's mouth. "I’m terribly sorry that I have to do this, James… but you can take my secrets along with you to your grave.”

Julian pried Jim's mouth open with one hand and used the other to rip out his tongue with one twist, sending a gush of blood down Jim's neck and into his white dress shirt. He'd been waiting for this moment for quite a long time now. Didn't he say that rude behavior would _not_ be tolerated? It didn't only apply to patrons, but to staff as well. Jim should've known better. Like the great Phantom Julian aspired to be, his secrets should concern no one but himself. If anyone had known this ghost existed in the flesh, then those theatrical imbeciles wouldn't be making a mockery of him with their sensationalized sideshow of a play.

And no one would’ve tried to keep Katharine Brody away from him, either.


	9. That's All I Ask of You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re enjoying this fic so far, please leave comments and/or kudos! I’d really appreciate any thoughts you guys might have!

**_Three days later_ **

For a play with such a short production timeframe (seeing as Carey's population had a short  _survival_  timeframe), work on  _The Phantom of the Universal Palace_  was coming along swiftly. For the past few days, the lobby served as a hub for the creation of all the production's visual aspects, mainly set and costume design, as the plasticky aroma of paint swirled in the air and Ms. Strict's sewing machine whirred away, its rhythmic sound blending in with that of the popcorn machine's jittery kettle. In Auditorium 4, a quartet of dancers, including Lacey, were beginning to learn choreography for a series of brief dance interludes spread throughout the play, while up in Auditorium 3, Nancy and Reid rehearsed the penultimate scene where Julian confessed his love for Evelyn... the scene nearly everyone in the cast and crew looked forward to seeing.

"I'm a little confused when it comes to Julian's accent," Reid told Rebecca during a lull in blocking the scene. "Like, is he British? On that tape you played for me, he sounded British."

"He ain't British," Rebecca told him, "but his voice had this sort of deep twang to it. Like an old Hollywood celebrity!"

"We call it the  _Trans-Atlantic accent_ , darling," Nancy added, emphasizing her point with a grand wave of her hand. "It makes you sound  _sophisticated, refined_... not like someone whose tongue seems to be missing." She glared down at Katharine, who sat in the audience taking notes. Nancy firmly believed Katharine played a part in the murder of her niece, going as far as to pin her to the wall and yell in her face as soon as she arrived earlier during the day. Of course, the Brody girl did nothing but stare at her with her muddy eyes, unable to speak or even move, up until Reid escorted her away. Who knew if she conspired with the ghosts of the theater to get the role she didn't deserve? She better stay off of  _her_  stage!

"All right, everyone!" Simon returned to his seat and laid his script binder in his lap. "Now that we're in the right direction with the blocking, I'd like to see you two really work off each other. Nancy, I want to hear the desperation in your voice... you've got to get away from this creep, but at the same time, you're utterly devoted to him and you can't let that go! And Reid, I can tell you're struggling with the creep factor a little bit. Don't be afraid to get in her personal space."

Reid shrugged. He never had this much trouble working on creating chemistry with an actress, especially while pretending to be a living corpse in love – no, rabidly obsessed with – another actress thought to be dead for decades. All his lines made him worried sick about Katharine the more he recited them. With Julian "mentoring" Katharine, did he speak to her in the same way, ogling at her and spreading his false pretenses of love onto her? 

"You all right, Segal?" Rebecca whispered in Reid's ear as he accidentally brushed against her shoulder. "You've been acting really weird all day."

"I need to talk to Brooks," Reid murmured so that Nancy wouldn't hear him. "It's important."

"Is it about  _her?_ " With a raised eyebrow, Rebecca glared over at Nancy as the diva admired herself from all angles in her compact mirror. "I know she's tough to handle, but we'll make it work."

Reid shook his head and descended from the steps off to the side of the stage, exchanging worried looks with Katharine. Her eyes pleaded with him not to tell Simon anything. They'd been here for at least three hours and not once did she utter a single word to him, let alone anyone. Ever since she passed out at her apartment a few nights ago, she'd been deathly silent, twisting around the ring and staring off into the distance with Julian's name under her breath. It didn't help that Jim, the only other person familiar with Julian, hadn't been seen in a few days, either. According to one of the ushers, a pale man named Peter who bore a striking resemblance to a Kerezan, he informed them that Jim had merely gone on holiday and that he'd be taking over his managerial duties for the time being. Neither Reid nor Katharine believed a single word he said.

"You seem rather distraught, Mr. Segal." Simon rose from his seat as Reid approached him. Remembering that Katharine sat nearby, he ushered him to a corner of the auditorium where they wouldn't be heard. "Is everything all right?"

"I'll be honest with you, sir." Reid cleared his throat. "I'm very worried about Katharine."

"Ms. Brody?" Simon's dark face crumpled in chagrin. "She's only Ms. Finch's understudy, my boy. Chances are she might not even go on at all, and as you may already know, Ms. Finch never misses a performance!" He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Plus, I heard that Ms. Finch is having some problems with Ms. Brody. There's no way she'll ever let Katharine go on."

"No, that's not what I meant. Something's up in this theater and it's feeding off your ignorance to even notice it! And this something, or in this case someone, is the very ghost haunting this theater, and he won't stop until the entire cast and crew of this show are dead. He's already started with Sierra. I'm telling you, Brooks, this play is in danger, and he's doing this all for Katharine!"

Simon sighed in exasperation.  _His_ precious play in  _danger?_  This play is supposed to help people, not harm!

"I believe you've been misinformed, Mr. Segal. Sierra Chastain died in a horrendous freak accident after stumbling into the wrong storage room in the midst of her concussion, and unfortunately, none of the Palace's employees seemed to notice. Pure negligence on their part."

"And then how did they find her?" Reid's voice heightened in anger. "Trapped in the underground lair of Julian Browning with her mouth sewn shut! That doesn't sound like a freak accident to me!"

"Well, then it was most likely a sadistic prank one of the Palace's employees played just to get attention, I suppose." An impish grin spread on Simon's face, almost as if he didn't want to reveal some of the more dangerous thoughts he had. "To be frank, I wouldn't be surprised if Katharine herself did it. If the rumors are true, then she's been fiddling around with the wrong kinds of people lately."

"Are you kidding me, Simon?" Reid's sudden shouting startled everyone in the auditorium, including Katharine. "This is history practically repeating itself! Don't you remember the notes? The Phantom is obsessed with Katharine because he sees her as his next Evelyn Crane, and this play only cements that belief!" He paused for a breath – a well-needed one. "If we all just stand around and let the Phantom do whatever he wants, then we'll be in for a rude awakening when he strikes. You've got to realize that."

Simon trilled anxiously underneath his breath. "I... I don't exactly know what to tell you, Reid. But I believe Ms. Brody simply has ghosts in her head and whatever she's trying to do to halt our production will be proven useless in a matter of time. This play will go on, Phantom or no Phantom!"

"Uh, Brooks?" Rebecca hesitantly joined Reid and Simon. "Are we supposed to have a body hanging in this scene?"

"No?" Simon's eye twitched. "Perhaps it's just a prop someone put in the wrong place?"

"Have a look for yourself. The thing's like, fifteen feet up in the air and it smells like rotten pizza or something. Someone went overboard with the realism, it looks like."

Reid and Simon returned to the stage. The so-called prop Rebecca mentioned - a garrotted corpse with gray hair soaked in dry blood - swung high in the rafters, casting a disturbing shadow on the blank silver screen as he swayed in the light breeze swirling through the auditorium. A flashlight, its reflector still bright and burning, had been shoved deep into the corpse's mouth, impaling him through the back of his neck.

"If that's really a prop, then I gotta say kudos to whoever designed that thing," Rebecca remarked. "It looks so real! But it's sort of weird that it looks exactly like Jim..."

A gloved hand emerged from the shadows of the catwalk and sliced at the taut rope with a sharpened knife, sawing back and forth until the rope frayed and sent the corpse plummeting down to the floor. His skull crashed into the stage with a deep crack, and blood seeped from a newly formed abscess on his head, forming a thickening puddle.

"He's gotten Jim!" Reid recalled what Katharine's creepy coworker told him earlier. Jim hadn't gone on vacation... "The Phantom's killed him, too!"

"James!" Nancy let out a shrill scream and cupped her hands over her mouth, tears prickling in her heavily made-up eyes. "Oh, my poor James, why!??!"

"Call an ambulance, Simon." Even Rebecca, who usually wasn't fazed by such gory sights, couldn't even bear to look at the corpse of the Palace's only trustworthy employee. "I don't know how none of the Palace workers noticed this..."

Katharine rose from her seat, wandering up the aisle with her gaze fixated on the ensuing chaos on stage. This all explained the vision she shared with Julian a few nights ago... the man she heard screaming was Jim! Another victim had been claimed by the Universal Palace's curse... or was it the line of victims Julian would continue executing unless she agreed to sign over her soul to him and the theater?

"You!" Nancy stormed off the stage, charging toward Katharine. She squeezed the ingenue's reddened, tear-stricken cheek in her hand and grabbed her throat with the other. "You did this, didn't you? This is another one of your sadistic pranks!"

"I..." Katharine tried to breathe for air. "I didn't... do it!"

"I know what you're up to, girl. You think this is your way of trying to steal my role, isn't it? You've killed my niece, one of my dearest friends..." An ugly mix of snot and tears gushed down the diva's face. "You're so ungrateful. They've made you understudy just so you can shush up and go about your business! Nobody likes you, you know. You're just a girl with the mind of a child—"

"Let her go, Nancy!" Reid pushed Nancy away from Katharine, holding out his hand to prevent Nancy from making another move. "Katharine, are you all right?"

"Julian..." Katharine pointed a shaky finger at the ghostly, illuminated figure she saw lingering in the wings. "He's..."

"He's _what_ , Katharine? Who? The Phantom?"

"How can someone be so daft to believe in such a ghoul?" Nancy asked incredulously. "If anything, she should be offered to him next!"

Katharine threw her hands over her ears and bolted out of the auditorium, heading for the roof access panel of the Palace. She pushed the double doors open and sped up the spiral staircase, not once looking back to see whether or not Julian slowly followed behind her, reminding her of how her father tried to escape from his clutches. No one ever escaped from the Universal Palace's curse with their life in tow. Even if you hadn't wronged her in any way, one of her sacred rules may have been broken through the subtlest of means. Did you leave footprints on the floor? Popcorn behind your trail? Or did you just so happen to whisper the spoiler of a great horror film a bit too loudly? The Palace showed no mercy, and neither did Julian... especially not when the woman he loved tried to flee from him.

She pushed the metal door to the roof open, relishing in the humid summer air and the dew lightly misting her face. Finally, she can catch her breath. No one would hurt her up here. Ghosts didn't venture outside the walls of where they died, anyway. Didn't they hate sunlight and the sweet smell of fresh air? Julian didn't have any reason to be up here with her. This is the only safe place in the Palace, away from all the dust and grime. No corpses, no remnants of the murders...

"Katharine?" A distant voice called to her. "Katharine, are you up here?"

Katharine quickly hid behind one of the chimney stacks, the one that faced Willamette Valley, the southern side of Carey. A beautiful bird's eye view comforted her. From here, she saw the old, Haunted Mansion-esque house atop the hill, the gray skies penetrated by rays of sunlight, the thicket of trees phasing into autumnal shades of red and orange. How she'd love to be lost in them, with no clear way out and her imagination to guide her, to be forgotten by the ghosts with no method of travel. Sometimes, it's better to be lost rather than found.

"There you are!" Reid joined her down on the ground. "I had no idea where you ran off to."

"D-did anyone else follow you here?" Katharine asked him.

"There's no one else up here. Trust me, I looked." Reid released a sharp exhale of breath. "Look. Now that it's just us two, can you  _please_  tell me what's going on here? If you don't tell me what's happening between you and Julian, then I have no clue how we're going to stop him from destroying the production... and hurting you."

"I meant what I said the other night, Reid. If he sees me with you, he'll kill us both!" Katharine closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm scared to even tell you anything... the next time I see Julian, he's not going to let me go. None of this will ever end!"

"Katharine." Reid gently took her chin in his hand. "You can tell me anything and everything. I'll believe you no matter what."

"But will you _trust_ me? Will you believe what I'm about to tell you?"

"You have my word, Katharine."

Unbeknownst to Reid and Katharine, Julian had indeed followed them up to the rooftop, lurking behind a different chimney stack. His dear Palace informed him that his little songbird was trying to flee, and so, he followed. What a foolish girl... did she really think sunlight bothered him? Granted, he preferred the shadows much more than the light, but he was not a Strengoit vampire; sunlight would not burn him to a crisp. He let it briefly blind him, stinging his milky eye. He hadn't seen the sun in  _generations_ , it felt like. He forgot just how delicious the air tasted on his dry tongue, how beautiful the transcendence from summer into autumn was. But when you're dead, the shadows are your home, and they served as your only sanctuary, away from the light and those in search of a vengeful ghost.

"All right..." Katharine began. "Well... it all started when I was sixteen... maybe even seventeen. Before I met you. I came here with my father on his first investigation of the Palace. He was messing around with his equipment, and I was bored, so I... wandered around the theater. And then, I sang... I think I was rehearsing for a talent show, and he heard me... even talked to me... but my dad found out and he took me home right after."

"And then what happened?" 

"I didn't return to the Palace until... I think April or May of this year. I needed a job, but everywhere was closing since supposedly the end of days are coming."

 _The end of days._ Julian smirked to himself. Adaru's ascension to Earth wasn't quite Doomsday, but his arrival will bring forth a new age of darkness that the world wasn't prepared to endure.

"But ironically enough," Katharine continued, "the only place that was hiring was the Palace... so I came here and became an usherette. Jim wasn't looking for custodial, or concessions, but... ushers. People to guard the Palace. People to keep him away. And no matter how hard they tried, Julian killed them all whenever they stepped even the slightest out of line. All except for me... because he wanted to save the best... meaning me, as Steven Brody's daughter... for last." A chill crept up her spine. "But my voice saved me. He'd listen to me sing as I cleaned up the theater for the night. That's when I became his own Christine Daae, and the animosity he felt for me melted into admiration."

"And what made him start those lessons with you? What are they like?" 

"I..." The color in Katharine's cheeks entirely vanished, leaving her whey-faced as Julian's words echoed in her head.  _Be my conduit, Katharine. Let them know that I am here._  "He knew Evelyn, personally... so he's the best source of information about her." She sighed deeply. "There's no one else in Carey who knows about Evelyn as well as Julian. He makes me stay past closing and join him down in the lair to sing for him until I couldn't speak anymore. He plays beautiful music, though... requiems you'd hear in church. Sometimes, I'd grasp a hint of human sorrow just through the notes he played... and I firmly believed that, in those moments, the undead felt pain and remorse, too... just as we do."

"Pain and remorse?" Reid's brows furrowed in confusion. "Well, some might, maybe, since they're still partially human deep down inside. What makes you feel that he suffers like us, too?"

"I don't know." Katharine wrung her hands together. "His music comforted me in my time of grief and mourning... and that period of uncertainty where I didn't quite know what I wanted to do with my life. 'The Devil's Love' made me feel whole, reminded me I wasn't alone." She paused as a painful throb overcame her words. "I want him to stop all these murders, but he won't until I give in to him. He wants me by his side forever! As strange as that sounds, it's the God's honest truth when it comes to the undead. He wants me to die for him! And despite everything... I feel like I owe him my soul."

Julian chuckled lowly to himself.  _Indeed you do, my dear,_  he thought,  _not just for Adaru, but your soul is the price you'll pay in exchange for your mercy._

"You don't owe anyone _anything,_ " Reid told her firmly. "You don't owe Julian your devotion or your love."

"Yes, I know, but... If I go back to Julian, it'll save everybody. A soul for a soul. It's only fair." Katharine's fingers hovered over the ruby on the ring. "I have to repay him somehow."

"But Katharine, do you _love_ him?" 

" _Love him?_ " Katharine gasped, appalled by Reid's question. "No. I mean... I'm not sure. I'm enraptured by him, in a weird way. You don't know everything about him like I do, Reid. He's gone decades without love, or sympathy, or even companionship. I fill that void for him. But I don't think I feel love for him, Reid. More like fear."

The bemused grin on Julian's face faded.  _Only appropriate she is frightened of you since you are an Icon,_ a voice inside his head taunted him. But he didn't do any of this to frighten her... only show her his love... how far he'd go if someone tried to harm her...

"Fear as in... when everyone is gone, he will be the only person left for me. He already got Jim... and he was the only link to my father I had left." Katharine buried her face into her knees to hide her tears. "Now, I don't think there's anyone left."

"I'm here for you, Katharine." Reid placed his hand on top of hers. This time, she didn't flinch at all. "Do you want to know the real reason why I came back to Carey? It wasn't necessarily because of the play... it was because of you."

This made Katharine's head shoot up. "Really?"

"Yeah." Reid chuckled sheepishly. "I swore to myself that after the Cleveland stop of Les Mis, I'd take time off and come back to Carey to visit with my loved ones. Ma and Sis are still doing okay... she's still got that barn of hers. Do you remember it?"

A soft giggle passed through Katharine's lips. "We used to think it was haunted by the ghost of a slaughtered pig!"

"And then I found you. I had no idea you'd be at the meeting! You know, I never really believed in luck, or chance, but that day... I started to believe in them all again." Reid held her hands in his. "I really want to make things serious with you, Katharine... but it's like you're always pushing me away."

"I don't mean to, Reid," Katharine said wistfully. "I only do it to protect you from Julian. That's why I was so short with you earlier... He's got eyes and ears in places you wouldn't expect. I don't want you to fall victim to his destruction." Tears pooled up in her eyes. "Reid... please. Please promise me you'll help me stop him, once and for all."

"We're in this together, Katharine." Reid tenderly kissed her lips, letting his hand rest atop her reddened cheek. "You'll be safe with me."

A strangled sob formed in Julian's throat _._  The bright young thing held Katharine in his arms as she sank deeper into his kiss, much like how Scarlett O'Hara greedily accepted Rhett Butler's embrace. Michael Myers' butcher knife had been thrust deep into his heart, twisting all around until his heart was left bloodless and his chest hollow. He'd never felt this kind of pain before. Of course, he spent years of his afterlife devastated and alone, lingering the Palace's halls in pursuit of some sort of relief – because this is what haunting a theater did to you, left you bare and soulless and utterly bored. She never loved him, only pitied him, just as all the others did. 

_Just as Evelyn did..._

Quickly - as quickly as he could go, that was - before Katharine and the insolent boy she called her lover caught sight of him, Julian slipped back into the depths of the Universal Palace, returned to his lair, and gathered several sheets of paper and his old typewriter. He sat at the metal slab where the corpse of Ms. Chastain once lay, set down his typewriter, and let his fingers go wild as he began to type the opening scenes of the play entirely from memory for several minutes, as that's what hours of eavesdropping cold reads and blocking sessions gifted you - the cherished photographic memory.

Then, after writing Evelyn's line at the beginning of Act One, Scene Four - "What was that?" - Julian's mind drew a blank. His brows furrowed as he tried to recall the words - what was his first line? Of course, he remembered every other line aside from his own. What was it? _Tickets, please? Good evening, moviegoers?_ No...

"I have brought you to your solitude, Evelyn."

But that wasn't quite how he'd speak, how he'd deliver that line. It needed something extra. Something...  _chilling._

"I have brought you to your  _resting place_ , Evelyn, and there you shall stay with me until the celluloid runs dry and the screens are stained with blood."

 _Yes._  This was how the story was supposed to end several decades ago. Not with Evelyn eloping with Norman, but with her joining him underneath the Universal Palace and living in immortality with him, retaining her iconic status as one of the most revered horror movie actresses of the silver screen. He could've given her anything she desired... jewels, pearls,  _eternal youth_ , and in return, he'd receive the love he always failed to find. He'd finally have a wife of his own, a woman other than the Palace's own spirit to call  _his_.

_But history keeps on repeating itself!_

Julian glanced over at the model he built of the Universal Palace, complete with statuettes of all the most infamous ghosts, including himself. He even created a statuette of Evelyn, pinning down her cherry red smile and doe-like brown eyes coated in dark eyeshadow. Grabbing the miniature Evelyn in his gloved hands, tears began to flood in his mismatched eyes. If only she had stayed and listened to his every thought and prayer, none of this would've ever happened. First Evelyn, now Katharine. All he asked of them both was for their compassion, their respect and dignity... and now it was all gone. Katharine only showed him threads of hollowed pity.  _She never loved him at all._

 _You_ must _love me, Katharine..._

A statuette clad in a voluminous bridal gown and veil stood next to a miniature poster for  _Dracula: Legacy in Blood_. With one pull, Julian snapped off her head and swapped it with the head of the Evelyn statuette, using a leftover needle to support her head onto its new body. Although the Bloodless Bride, as the patrons and naysayers called her, did not have any prior connection to Evelyn, this is who Katharine shall soon become... drained of her blood and a bride of the night. 

It was a perfect ending to this tale of terror... where, as Julian's friend and fellow herald Elsa Strict would always say, there would be no happily ever after.


	10. Intermezzo: Interview with Legendary Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Think of this chapter as a little bit of a time skip and my way of summarizing what happened between Reid and Katharine's rendezvous on the rooftop and what'll be happening in the next chapter. Plus, a way to remind y'all that Legendary Truth's investigation is still happening in the present day.
> 
> And as usual, if you're enjoying the story, please leave a kudos and/or comments! I can't believe I'm halfway through this story already.

On Aug. 25 and 26, 2019, Spirit Seeker John Michaels sat down with Katharine Brody, a past victim of Julian Browning, to learn her side of the story about the doomed Carey Repertory production _The Phantom of the Universal Palace_. Michaels believes this may aid Legendary Truth with their revitalized investigation of the Universal Palace Theater and Julian Browning's past, present, and future motives.

Below is a portion of the transcript for the interview conducted on Aug. 26.

**KATHARINE BRODY INTERVIEW, PART 2**

**Date: 08/26/2019**

**Duration: 45 minutes**

**Location: Universal Palace Theater, Carey, Ohio**

**Conducted by John Michaels, Legendary Truth Spirit Seeker**

**JM:** John Michaels here. I’m based at Legendary Truth’s senior division of Spirit Seekers, working in conjunction with the Carey, Ohio police department. Now, I know I asked you this yesterday, Ms. Brody, but for clarity’s sake, can you please state your full name?

 **KB:** Katharine Jane Bro _… (A pause.)_ Brody. Katharine Jane Brody.

 **JM:** And can you state your date of birth?

 **KB:** June 14th, 1990.

 **JM:** Which makes you twenty-nine years old?

 **KB:** Yes.

 **JM:** Okay. Yesterday, you started informing me about your involvement with the Universal Palace Theater, starting when your father started his initial investigation and up until when you participated in one of the Carey Repertory’s plays.

 **KB:** Yes, sir.

 **JM:** We also discussed when you first met Julian Browning, and then the deaths of the following victims: Jacob Smith, Sierra Chastain, Louis Grimaldi, and James Ward. You stated you had absolutely no part in planning and or committing these murders. Do you still stand by this claim?

 **KB:** Yes, sir, absolutely none. I was merely the inspiration behind them. You know… he killed for me.

 **JM:** All right, let’s start where we left off… some personal info. What happened after the play? Where’d you go once you escaped from Julian?

 **KB:** I believe it’s best if I continue telling the story in sequential order, Mr. Michaels. Things would make a lot more sense if we did just that.

 **JM:** I understand, but from what I've gathered, your story has quite a few gaps that still need to be filled. For instance, were you still studying at Carey University while all of this transpired?

 **KB:** I was on summer break at first, but I began my junior year right before we did the play. Of course, because of the War of the Living Dead, classes were indefinitely suspended so we could return to our loved ones and prepare for Adaru's Awakening. That's when I moved to Oregon with Reid for a few years, but we came back to Carey just before Christmas last year. We were supposed to marry in June, but... that never happened, unfortunately. I don't like talking about it.

 **JM:** I’m sorry to hear that, Ms. Brody. So, what have you been doing since then?

 **KB:** _(A pause.)_ Haunting around.

 **JM:** You can't use that term lightly in these parts. I thought you knew.

 **KB:** I know, but... I meant I just... pop in and out of places from time to time.

 **JM:** Do you still do any theatrical work? Plays, musicals, those sorts of things? Or maybe behind the scenes sort of stuff?

 **KB:** Not anymore. I retired after I did a brief stint on the H.R. Bloodengutz show for a year or two.

 **JM:** Thankfully that man’s where he belongs now.

 **KB:** Hellgate?

 **JM:** Shadybrook, actually. Some of the other Seekers are working on that case. Anyway, have you been attending any counseling sessions I should know about? Reading your records, I see you’ve been diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder and clinical depression.

 **KB:** I’ve sort of floated around different psychologists in the past few years, but last year I found an amazing therapist that understands me more than anyone else I’ve ever seen. Not to brag, of course. His four-step program seminar quite literally changed my life.

 **JM:** And his name is?

 **KB:** Gideon Grim. ( _A pause from JM._ ) He’s sort of an underground therapist. Most haven’t heard of him. He’s, um… a little unconventional with his methods.

 **JM** : All right, then… I’ll see if I can track him down. So, backtracking a bit, you and Reid escaped to the rooftop, and there was a brief lull in time where you didn’t encounter Julian at all. You wouldn’t even see him while you were working or rehearsing. How long was this period of time?

 **KB:** A month and a half.

 **JM:** I remember you told me you knew the way to where Julian lived underneath the theater, and sometimes you’d go and visit him. Did you ever try going down there and talking to him on your own volition after what occurred on the rooftop?

 **KB:** Yes, but he was never there. I was under the assumption he overheard me talking to Reid and that I, uh… invoked his vengeance.

 **JM** : Invoked his vengeance? What do you mean by that?

 **KB:** He really loves me, Mr. Michaels. I thought I told you that.

 **JM:** Yes, yes, you did. Now, when was the next time you saw Julian?

 **KB:** During the gala at the Palace—

( _At this moment, the interview is briefly interrupted by Katharine’s infant son crying.)_

 **JM:** Aww, who’s this little tyke we’ve got here? I don’t think we’ve met before.

 **KB:** My son. Funny thing, his name is Gideon, too, though I didn’t name him after my therapist. It was my husband’s idea.

 **JM:** Oh, how precious! He looks just like his mother… brown eyes, brown hair.

 **KB:** Actually, I’d say he looks more like his father! He’s already got his little curls… so cute!

 **JM:** Who’s the father, if you don’t mind me asking?

 **KB:** _(A pause.)_ I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you. He’s a very private person.

 **JM:** Is Reid the father of your child? Or perhaps... Julian himself?

 **KB:** _(Another pause.)_ Can we move on to the next question, please? I’m afraid I’m in a bit of a time crunch.

 **JM:** Oh, all right, I understand. Now, back to where we were… the gala?

 **KB:** Oh, right. The gala night… it was very beautiful. Masquerade themed, just like the Phantom of the Opera. It was to celebrate the beginning of fall...


	11. A Face Will Still Pursue You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that I haven't posted in a while! This chapter took me a few weeks to write (it's a big one... I mean come on, it's the Masquerade scene!), not to mention I've got work and life stuff going on as well.
> 
> And as usual, if you're enjoying this fic, please leave comments and/or kudos!

**_September 2010_ **

Every year, the Carey Historical Society held a masquerade ball to celebrate the first day of autumn. Most went all out with their costumes and masks, loaning antique dresses, Venetian masks, and costume jewelry of all different colors and styles to make themselves indistinguishable from their usual selves. This made the masquerade a perfect event to swap secrets, gather gossip, and let lies fly loose off lips, for at this party, no one ever took off their masks and revealed their identities. No one would know if the masked face next to them belonged to a politician, an artisan, or perhaps one of Carey’s most infamous of Icons blending in seamlessly with the crowd. Flirting with sacrifice or dealing with death? It all remained a mystery.

The Universal Palace Theater hosted the festivities for this year's event. After all, holding the ball at the theater would be perfect promotion for the play, as Simon persuaded Timothy Reynolds, mayor of Carey and current chairman of the Historical Society.

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Simon?” Rebecca, dressed in a navy pantsuit with her blonde hair curled into a Vidal Sassoon bob, looked anxiously around the lobby, pretending to admire Simon’s decorations. “With everything that’s happened between us and the Phantom, I don’t think it’s a smart idea to provoke him with a wild party.”

“Oh, nonsense, Rebecca!” Simon’s eyes crinkled behind his plastic owl mask as he bellowed in laughter. “He knows better than to show his rotting face to the public! Now, put your mask on! Let’s party!”

Rebecca sighed and slipped her black domino mask back over her face. The more Simon pretended to ignore the threats surrounding the play and its cast, the more she became just as frightened and uncertain as everyone else, even if she didn't like showing it. She struggled to believe that just a few months ago, she doubted the Phantom's very existence; she didn't even believe in any of the Icon or Adaru bullshit, for that matter. But with the news running rampant with hundreds of published obituaries, her eyes had opened to just how much of a real threat the undead created over the people of Carey. What if she was at the top of Julian's list, bringing slander to his name by portraying him as a Grand Guignol villain in the play she wrote?

For just this night, the Universal Palace transformed back into the glamorous beacon of Carey’s elite that hadn’t been seen in decades. Vases of freshly cut roses adorned each corner of the lobby, and black and gold streamers were strewn about the staircase banisters. Champagne was abundantly stocked and meaty hors d'oeuvres were brought in by the Meetz Meats Butchery, while music from the 1930s and 40s played over the sound system. A rainbow’s worth of dresses and masks filled the lobby with a bright burst of well-needed color. The alcohol bubbled and the rotisserie steamed, the dancers twirled and the attendees chattered and laughed amongst themselves. Tonight, the only thing that empowered the citizens of Carey wasn’t the fear of impending doom, but the celebration of decadence and debauchery, and unbeknownst to most, the rebirth of vengeance.

"Oh, what a splendid party this is, Simon!" Nancy, dressed in a bejeweled black velvet half-mask and a purple gown that greatly brought attention to her voluptuous chest, laughed with a red smile, bringing her manicured hand onto the Managing Director's shoulder. "You and the Historical Society have really outdone yourselves! It's almost as if we've been transported back to the Jazz Age!"

"Why thank you, Ms. Finch!" Simon poured both of them glasses of champagne. "I always thought it was a great idea to host one last hurrah here before… uh… well…”

“The zombies try to eat us?” Nancy asked throatily before letting out a braying laugh. “Oh, darling, you worry way too much! If such a thing transpires, you ought to stay with me and Duncan in our cellar. It’s plentifully stocked with wine!” She gave him a wink as she took her spilling glass.

“Well… I can’t pass down access to your grandfather’s vineyard. Consider me sold!” Simon clinked his glass with hers. "To a wondrous production!"

"And to the Phantom that is rightfully burning in Hell!"

* * *

Katharine used the veil of anonymity to her benefit, freely traversing through the crowd as smoothly as a specter in her pink evening gown and white cat mask. For once, it felt wonderful not having dozens of people come up to her asking questions about her involvement in the Palace murders as one would accuse a Puritan woman of witchcraft. The hidden eyes of the theater's ghosts didn't freeze her in her tracks, either, shunned away by the light and the masked lechers stumbling into every square inch of the lobby where they otherwise would’ve been hiding.

And much to her surprise, she hadn't once seen a sign of Julian. No drop in temperature, no trails of blood running down the aisles. In fact, no one encountered the Usher in almost two months. A part of Katharine believed he witnessed her and Reid talking on the rooftop, as the murders ceased and the rehearsals occurred without any projectiles plummeting down from the rafters. Had she broken the spirit's dead heart? She never broke someone's heart before, let alone someone who didn't even have a functioning one. The thought made her own heart ache in sorrow. 

 _Maybe it’s for the best,_ Katharine thought, _but it sure does feel strange not having him around…_

“I knew I’d find you here, my dear.” Someone with a high-pitched, eerie voice crooned in Katharine’s ear and grabbed her bare shoulder.

Katharine's heart dropped to her stomach. Quickly, as she tried to think of things to say, she turned to confront who acknowledged her - a young man dressed in a black tuxedo and a gray, metallic mask with horns jutting out of the forehead area. A blonde curl of hair hanging over the edge of the man's mask instantly gave away his identity.

“Reid!” Katharine playfully slapped his shoulder. “You scared the crap out of me!”

“I figured now would be a perfect time to test out my Julian voice.” Reid pushed his horned mask up, revealing his perspiring face and darkly shaded eyes. “Seems like it’s working!”

“Shh, put your mask back on!” Katharine giggled and slipped Reid’s mask back over his face before anyone noticed. “Okay, to be fair, you’ve almost got it, but it sounds more… _senile._  Like a bitter old person.”

“Speaking of that creep, have you seen him lurking around?”

Katharine suspiciously glanced over at the staircase. Perhaps the most frightening costume belonged to the tall man standing alone on the staircase wearing an all-white plague doctor’s outfit, complete with a wide-brimmed hat and crow-like mask. She hadn’t thought this man to be much of a threat until he started looking in her direction every few minutes as if he knew her. The Icons had their allies, too - spirits from Singapore and hellions from Hollywood. What if he was one of them?

“I haven’t seen him,” Katharine then told Reid, shaking her head, “but then again, what would he wear to a party like this? A Jigsaw costume?”

“Nah, he’d wear a Phantom of the Opera costume. I mean, hell, he already looks like Lon Chaney with that ghastly face of his!”

Katharine gave Reid a dry look. “Well, that’d _really_ give him away, now wouldn’t it?”

“Hey, guys!” Lacey, dressed in a minty green tea dress and pink mask edged with white lace, twirled over to Reid and Katharine. “Ooh, Reid, look at you! You’re all ghoulish!”

“It was Kath’s idea.” Reid wrapped his arm around Katharine’s waist. “It’s cool, but it makes me look like a Satan worshipper.”

“A Satan worshipper?!” Katharine guffawed. “Reid! You know I’m not _that_ dark-minded!”

"I see you more as a fallen angel!" Lacey chirped. "An angel statue who got his wings chopped off, so he rusted away in the rain and transformed into a devil!" This made Reid and Katharine snicker. “What? I think it’s a beautiful idea!”

“All right, everyone!” Simon leaped onto the makeshift stage in the center of the lobby and tapped the microphone, sending across a screech of feedback that made everyone’s eardrums vibrate unpleasantly. “Darn, I always seem to be doing that lately! Now, I believe it’s time for everyone’s favorite moment of the night… the waltz! Everyone, find a partner! Don’t be shy!”

“Ooh, I wonder if Taylor wants to dance with me!” Lacey made a beeline for Taylor Steerington, the actor portraying Evelyn Crane’s lover, Norman Edwards, in the play, and the guy she’d been seeing lately.

"Katharine?" Reid held out his hand to her. "As the old folks say, may I have this dance?"

"I-I'm not sure it's a good idea, Reid." Katharine cringed as a familiar cold draft swirled all around her. 

"Why not? We don’t have anything to hide!”

"Reid, please. I don't want to argue with you about this again.”

"Out of my way, girl!" Nancy pushed Katharine away from Reid, muttering something about, "Creating chemistry with _me_ and not that ghostly girl!" underneath her breath.

Katharine didn’t stay alone on the dance floor for long. Her white-clad suitor slowly glided across the lobby in her direction, his dark-gloved hand extended out for her to take. _White isn’t Julian’s color,_ Katharine thought, but she wouldn’t have been surprised if he wore this costume to parallel the Phantom of the Opera’s Red Death costume. If the Red Death brought a plague of death and disease, then what did this white plague doctor symbolize? The death of innocence and freedom?

“Uh…” Katharine nervously giggled and took the stranger’s hand. “Have we met before?”

"Quite some time ago, I believe." The plague doctor's voice, although audible, was too muffled behind his mask for Katharine to try and identify.

"I'm afraid my memory's been faltering lately." A slow, jazzy ballad filled the lobby with a melancholy strain of music. “You'd have to refresh me."

"It wasn't too long ago, in fact." The plague doctor snaked an arm around her waist, leading her into the dance. Katharine jumped at the cold feeling that shot through her spine. "Oh, I sincerely apologize. I didn't mean to frighten you."

"I've been frightened by worse lately. Nowadays, I feel like I’m scared of everything.”

"I may be no doctor, but you can confide in me, my dear.”

Katharine’s heart nearly stopped. _My dear._ Only one person ever called her that.

“I hardly know the reason why. I just have these weird thoughts and I can’t get them out of my head.” Katharine paused. Why was she opening up to this stranger like this? Nevertheless, she continued. "I feel like I'm falling for someone I shouldn't be. It's as if... the fear I feel for him... is something entirely different. Something I don't want to admit."

“A dear friend of yours, perhaps? Well, I say if you have feelings for someone, then you should go and steal their heart… not literally, of course. Although some may very well do that…”

“Like that Caretaker who goes around stealing corpses and ripping out their hearts?” _What a gruesome pun for him to make._ “You shouldn’t joke about the Icons. They’re serious people… including…”

“Yes?” The plague doctor peered closer to her, nearly stabbing her in the face with his beak.

“The Usher.” Katharine stared into the dark, opaque panes of glass hiding his eyes. “He’s been on my mind a lot lately.”

“ _The Usher?_ ” The plague doctor chuckled. “I’d say he’s the least dangerous out of the five. He only ever kills those who break the rules of his theater, and even then, he never kills innocents… unlike the others.” The tone of his voice shifted into disgust.

“Yes, I know, but…” As the plague doctor spun her around, Katharine and Reid noticed each other and how visibly uncomfortable they were with their partners. Katharine raised a finger to her mask's plastic lips and then turned back to the plague doctor. "I think I've broken more than just the rules. I think I've also broken his heart... but I didn't mean to, really."

“Broken his heart? How so?”

"I... he means a great deal to me. Not just as my teacher, but... sort of like a friend. I worry about him a lot... which is weird, considering he's... you know... an Icon." Ashamed, she hung her head low. "It's hard to explain. I mean, I don't even know who you are! Why am I telling you this?"

"Perhaps it's easier for you to confide in a masked stranger rather than the living corpse who your chains are still bound to."

The plague doctor brought Katharine into the small sliver of light emanating from the recently repaired chandelier. A very familiar milky eye then became visible behind the dark panes of glass, fixated on her and the golden necklace she wore around her neck.

“Julian!”

A loud, scratchy sound overcame the waltz playing on the record player. Peter and Roxanne, dressed in identical black-and-red hooded robes and scraggly-haired pig masks, burst into the lobby, pushing their way past the waltzing couples. The plague doctor – Julian – tightly pressed Katharine to his side and dragged her away from the dance floor, ushering her toward the stage. The black ribbon securing Katharine's white mask loosened, and with a plasticky thud, the mask slid off her face and fell to the floor.

“Reid!” Katharine screamed at the top of her lungs, although the sounds of paranoia from the scurrying masqueraders buried her voice into the pit of the madness.

"Katharine!" Reid fought through the crowd, shoving people aside. He thought he heard her scream his name, but with so many people in the way, he couldn't even tell what was happening even two feet away from him. The only thing he managed to see was Katharine's discarded mask at his feet and the creepy white plague doctor she danced with standing on the stage, dangling Katharine at his side like she was a ragdoll.

An invisible arrow plunged itself deep into Reid's heart. Finally, after months of hearing the Phantom's name uttered in such fear and terror, Julian Browning had finally decided to part from the shadows and expose himself to the light, putting an end to the production crew's skepticism and disbelief.

"What is the meaning of this, Ms. Brody?" Simon stormed up to Katharine, microphone in hand. "I know you've been one for histrionics lately, but this is very much unwarranted—"

Julian slowly cocked his head in Simon's direction, and with his hand, he gestured for the Managing Director to hand him the microphone. Without a second thought, Simon slipped the microphone into the Usher’s hand and quickly left the stage, but not before releasing a high-pitched shriek of terror that made Peter and Roxanne break out in impish giggles.

“Good evening… _revelers_.” Julian’s voice echoed across the lobby. He smirked; the microphone made him sound just as authoritative as ever. “As your Usher, I would like to personally welcome you to my Universal Palace Theater. Ahh, yes…” He gazed out into the crowd, relishing in the frightened faces of those that dared to give him eye contact. “It does feel absolutely _wonderful_ to meet all of you. Unfortunately, I suspect not many of you will be here for much longer, knowing the plague that is soon to take over Carey…”

"Simon, who the hell is that?" Rebecca whispered loudly as Simon joined her at the side of the stage. 

"It's the Phantom, Rebecca!" Simon cried with a frightful quiver in his voice. "I have a feeling this will all end fatally, and then we'll have to cancel the production—"

”Shh, I wanna hear what he says!”

“But for those of you who are fortunate enough to survive for the premiere on October 8th,” Julian continued, “then you all will be in for a rather _grand_ spectacle before the light flashes and fades from your eyes…” He reached for the leather satchel around his waist and pulled out a thick, leather-bound book. With Katharine still in tow, he approached the edge of the stage where Simon stood. “I bring to you the revised edition of your… inane farce, with all so-called artistic licenses and inaccuracies replaced with more… certitude.” 

“Oh, uh…” Julian gestured for Simon to take the script, thrusting it in his face. “Thank you, kind Phantom sir. We’ll take a look at it during rehearsal tomorrow.”

“And while I have everyone’s… _undivided attention_ , I’d like to single out some members of the audience for some notes. First, I’d like to mention that although Taylor Steerington is doing a wonderful job as the mincing Norman Edwards, a little bit of… _debonair-s_ will spice up your portrayal, and a touch of sleaze.”

“Sleaze?” Taylor cried. “He’s not Johnny Depp!”

“Don’t listen to him, baby,” Lacey whispered, rubbing his arm. “You’re doing just fine.”

“As for the supposed Greek chorus strutting about the stage,” Julian added, eyeing Lacey in particular, “you must realize the Charleston is a dance of frenetic passion, not a pretty ballet. Don’t be afraid to dance as if your feet are on fire… that is, unless I light one underneath the stage come opening night.”

“I’d better look for fireproof shoes, then,” Lacey said worriedly.

“And the stars of our show..." Julian clicked his tongue as he surveyed the crowd. He grinned as Nancy marched up to the production crew with her hands on her hips, screeching Germanic swears and gesturing wildly toward the stage. "Ahh, yes. Let us begin with Ms. Nancy Bianca Elena Finch..."

“That’s _Eliza_!” Nancy shouted, blue eyes flaring up at Julian.

“Never before have I encountered such an _utter wreck_ of self-deprecation. You bring _shame_ and _disgrace_ to poor Evelyn Crane’s name. Evelyn… my dearest Evelyn…” Julian's hand hovered over his heart. “She was the apple of every monster's eye, the Gothic heroine in pursuit of love... And you, Ms. Finch… you are neither.”

Nancy scoffed in an incredulous manner. “But I have played all those roles before, and I’m damn proud of them! After all, I _am_ the prima donna of the Carey Repertory—”

“You’re still grieving the death of your beloved niece, aren’t you? Perhaps you need some time to rest. It simply isn’t healthy for a woman of your age to be so… hysterical.” Julian loosened Katharine from his grip. “Thus, Ms. Katharine Brody shall take over for you. I believe I’ve already explained why in the notes I’ve sent.” He turned in the direction of the production crew. “But then again, you two don’t seem to realize that your places should be behind a desk in a cold studio and _not_ making your actors spit out untruthful nonsense.”

“Now wait just a minute!” Rebecca charged up to the edge of the stage. “Me? Behind a desk? What’re you, nuts? If this chick can write a song for a _singing garden topiary_ and hand-stitch her costume entirely from scratch, then I think I’m more than qualified to bring you and your beloved theater to the stage—”

“Rebecca, don’t.” Reid joined the rest of the production crew, pulling Rebecca away from the stage. 

“And who do we have here?” Julian smirked down at Reid. “Ahh… the dashing young man who shall be portraying me. I will admit… I’m rather fond of your portrayal, Mr. Segal. I love it, I love it… _I slightly hate it._ But then again, you’ve been misinformed by the original script… and whatever’s been told to you. I am not just some repulsive _corpse_ with a taste for blood. Think of all I’ve endured for the Universal Palace. The hangings… the sacrifices… _the impartialities._ I did it all to protect her…” His voice heightened in adoration. “Not just out of revenge for all that the Palace has suffered, of course… but for Evelyn as well… and, in these more recent times, the young lady who’s preserved her likeness to immaculate detail.”

Reid cringed as he watched Katharine twist around the ring on her finger. Her eyes, once shining with life as she partied and chatted with her fellow masqueraders, immediately turned empty and dull, and a grimace, a look that read, "Help me!" usurped her face. At the current moment, Reid’s biggest fear consisted of Julian completely taking over Katharine body and soul, and bringing her to the dark place where Evelyn almost landed several decades ago, or otherwise messing up her life so much that she too would fall victim to her demons. She already lost her father to the Phantom’s terror, and soon, she may also lose herself, if she wasn’t careful. Her fear melded so much into unconventional love for the Usher that it might’ve already been too late to save her… unless he did something, _now._

_You’ve got to protect that girl._

The masqueraders cried for Katharine, protesting that she take action, but their pleas passed through the dead air. Katharine broke out of Reid's grasp and slowly approached Julian with glazed-over eyes. She hallucinated the Palace ghosts behind him again, bloody and burnt and beaten, as they hissed and glared defiantly at her. The Palace needed their queen to watch over them, desperate for orders and devotion, but these dead spirits believed that she was not the one.

"Get away from him, Katharine!"

"He's dangerous, Katharine!"

_"Stay with us, Katharine..."_

"Don't listen to him, Katharine!" Reid bolted for the stage and gently pulled the dazzled Katharine away from Julian. "Please, listen to me. He's trying to hurt you!"

Julian brought the microphone underneath his arm and strolled toward Katharine. "You've forgotten your Angel, Katharine..." the Usher whispered slowly, painfully. Then, with an angry grunt, he ripped the chain off her neck, sending the locket clattering to the floor. "I won't let you deny me... never, _ever_ again..."

Katharine buried her face into Reid's shoulder.  _Never, ever again..._ there truly is no escape from the Universal Palace and her curse.

Julian brought the microphone back to his mouth and turned back toward his captive, terrified audience. “If my changes are not instated by tomorrow afternoon, expect a disaster of the most… fatal means.” He pointed two fingers at Reid and Katharine, wagging them back and forth. “Starting with these two.”

The theater’s lights flickered as quick as a skitter of lightning, casting bright flashes all around the lobby. When the lights settled again, Julian and his minions had vanished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow my HHN tumblr at [@theusherette-official](http://www.theusherette-official.tumblr.com).
> 
> Also, whoever correctly guesses Katharine, Reid, and Julian's costumes/masks deserve a cookie!
> 
>  
> 
> ~~But in case you don't know: Katharine's mask is Audrey's One-Eyed Jack's mask from Twin Peaks, Reid is a Nameless Ghoul from Ghost (anachronistic but w/e), and Julian is Dr. White from HHN Singapore.~~


	12. Twisted Every Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's another big one... it encompasses the Notes 2/Twisted Every Way/Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again/Wandering Child/Bravo Monsieur scenes from the musical. I was initially going to split this into two chapters, but I felt like the Notes/Twisted scene didn't really warrant a chapter of its own, so that's why this is a mega-chapter and why it took me a lot longer to write.
> 
> And as usual, if you’re enjoying this fic so far, please leave comments and/or kudos! I’d really appreciate any thoughts you guys might have!

"'Due to the many accidents, deaths, and disappearances that have all occurred in the Universal Palace's many decades of operation," Rebecca read from the latest issue of the Carey Herald, "The Carey Repertory Theatre's upcoming play "The Phantom of the Universal Palace" is anticipated to be nothing more than a date with death. Those who wish to provoke one of Carey's most infamous of Icons might as well be signing their own death certificate, and we at the Carey Herald solemnly wish the producers of this play reevaluate their standards. After the deaths of beloved child star Sierra Chastain, age 19, and longtime Palace manager James Ward, age 54, and the appearance of the Phantom at the Carey Historical Society’s annual masquerade gala, audiences planning to attend the tale of Julian Browning are at risk of being at the end of a noose like all his other victims, innocent or not."

"Oh, the press always spirals things out of control, Rebecca!" Simon chided her, ripping the newspaper from out of her hands. "I'd implore you not to believe a word they say!"

"But we're still putting on this goddamn play even after the Phantom personally threatened us! Shouldn't we be worrying about evacuating rather than risking our lives and bringing the literal end to our careers?"

Simon clicked his tongue. "Rebecca, I don't know what's come over you lately, but you're worrying way too much! You used to have so much passion for this project, but it's all died in front of my eyes." He frowned at her, trying to garner some sympathy. It didn't work; Rebecca's icy glare froze even more on him. "I've told you and the cast many times before: this play is _not_ in danger. Whatever’s occurred between the Phantom and Ms. Brody may simply be a coincidence and nothing more."

"That's the thing. We need to talk to Brody and hear her side of the story for once. She's the one who might know how to put a stop to all this!”

"Then, I suppose we should start with this." Simon unclasped his briefcase and pulled out the leather-bound book containing Julian's revised script. "The Phantom's leaving behind the information we need in our most dire hour. Whatever he's planning against us ought to be referenced here."

Rebecca gently brought the old book into her arms and unbuckled the strap across it. An overwhelmingly dusty scent filled her nostrils, and more of Julian's notes emerged from beneath the pages, floating down to her feet.

“It appears as if we have more notes from our ghostly friend!” Simon lowered down to his knees to retrieve them – he counted at least five or six. “I wonder what they say.”

“Well, let’s see.” Rebecca snatched a note out of Simon’s hand and unfolded it to read the typed-out words on the yellowed paper. "’ Dear, production posse.’ Oh, how cute. ‘In regards to Act Two, Scene Five, a stuntman may be required to successfully pull off the hanging scene. We wouldn't want anyone actually getting their neck into a twist... but I believe a good hanging would rope in just the right level of suspense needed for your little production.’” She set the note down. “What does he think we're staging here, huh? A Universal Studios stunt show?"

“It appears to be the case.” Simon grimaced. “Though I’m more of a Disney person myself…”

“And let’s see about this one…” Rebecca began to read from another note. “’ Sets are coming along well, as are costumes, thanks to the work of my wonderful colleague, Elsa Strict. Do tell her I said hello, although I specifically recall Evelyn’s flapper dress being bedazzled with diamonds and not sequins, and her heels were black, not white.’ God, this guy is anal about details.”

“That’s only a minor inconsistency. I’ll be sure to tell her immediately. Now, what does the next one say?”

“Note’s not finished.” Rebecca continued to read to herself, skimming through portions about anachronistic music styles and props. As her eyes narrowed down to the bottom of the note, the words, ‘revised ending’ grabbed her attention. “Okay, here we go… he’s changed the ending. So, instead of Norman and Evelyn trapping Julian in his lair and living happily ever after, now we have…” She stared at the words for a while, letting them sink into her head. “Julian gruesomely killing Norman by cutting his throat and displaying his garroted body at the premiere of The Dark Chapter, and taking Evelyn down to the underground to be his bride forever.”

Simon remained silent, a look of horror flashing over his dark face as he massaged his temples. “Well…” he murmured, releasing a burst of air from underneath his teeth. “That’s…uh… that’s very dark.”

“We can’t stage this shit, Simon! We’re not making Brody and Segal go through all that after what Julian said to them at the gala last night—”

“Hold up, we’re casting _Ms. Brody_ as Evelyn now?”

“Don’t you remember what the Phantom said? If we don’t, then he’ll—"

“ _What is the meaning of this?!_ ” Nancy stormed into Auditorium 3 with her own note, shaking it around in her hand like an eviction notice. “One of those disturbingly pale ushers out front handed me this when I arrived. Said his boss wrote it for me! And do you know what it says? I said _do you know what it says?!_ It says you’ve cast _Katharine Brody_ as Evelyn and that I’ve been demoted to the Greek chorus! _The Greek chorus!_ You know I haven’t been in so minor of a role since I was about five years old!”

"Look." Rebecca stormed up to Nancy with her hands on her hips. "You remember what he told you at the gala last night. Do you want to be at the end of the Phantom's noose, too? Or trapped in his lair with no way out? Then you've got to follow us here, Ms. Finch! This is the only way we can do the show without any problems—"

"Oh...” Nancy’s gaze narrowed to behind Simon’s shoulder. “Look who’s here.”

Katharine entered the auditorium clinging to Reid's arm. For once, fear did not reside in her brown eyes, nor did she anxiously scan the auditorium thinking that Julian lurked in the central balcony or elsewhere. Her face remained in a tight, stern expression, mentally preparing herself for any quarreling words Nancy might throw her way.

“Oh, Ms. Brody!” Simon exclaimed. “Just the person we need to see.”

"Well, if it isn't the little starlet herself!" Nancy stepped up to Katharine, the tip of her pink Louis Vuitton heels colliding into Katharine's boot. "The little starlet who's trying to force herself into the spotlight by murdering everyone in her path!"

"Are you kidding me?!" Katharine slipped her hand out of Reid's to confront the diva, daring to shove her face into hers. "If everyone's going to continue accusing me of what Julian has done, I don't even want to do this show anymore!"

“But you’re the only other actress we have lined up for the part—” Simon began to say.

“And if we don’t listen to the Phantom, he’ll kill us—” Rebecca also said, her voice overlapping with Simon’s.

Katharine turned to Rebecca and Simon. “I can’t do the play anymore, for my safety. I’m going to have to forfeit my part.”

“Then I’m guessing you also received a note from the creepy usher manning the ticket booth, Brody?” Rebecca asked her.

“From Peter? Yes.” Katharine drew out a crumpled-up note from her pocket. After one brief glance at the words, she handed it over to Reid. “Reid, read this for them, please?”

“Of course, Kat.” Reid started to read the note aloud. “’ To my dearest Katharine. I continue to have faith in you and your portrayal of Evelyn, despite everything that has happened between us in the months that have passed. But in order for your portrayal to be as accurate as possible, as you've told me, you must accept that in your mind, you have already succumbed to me and the Universal Palace. There is no use resisting. I can no longer show you any mercy unless you keep your end of our bargain... which, as you may recall, involves a sacrifice most fatal. I have spilled others’ blood for you, and now it is your turn to spill some blood for me… whether it’s that of your lover’s, or your own. I hate to make you choose between your love and your career, my dear, but as a great man once said... live or die. Make your choice. Love, your Usher… J.B.’”

“I knew it!" Nancy cried with a devilish screech. "You _did_ conspire with that miserable old ghost to murder my niece!"

"I never asked him to kill _for me!_ " Katharine argued.

"But you knew he would," Simon told her grimly. "We are dealing with the work of an Icon here, Ms. Brody! A bonafide murderer!"

"And now you realize that!" Rebecca yelled at Simon.

"Katharine, do you want me to tell them?" Reid whispered in Katharine's ear.

"I... I..." Katharine couldn't speak, overwhelmed by the layers of voices circling around her. She caught the endings of some of their words – “Madness! Excuses! Killings!” and kept her eyes down on the heart Julian had drawn in fresh blood at the bottom of the note. The more she continued to look, the more she envisioned the blood dripping down from the crinkled paper and into the carpeting, ebbing into a huge puddle beneath everyone's feet...

“Katharine needs to help us!”

“No one else can!”

“She has to, Ms. Finch!”

“She’s lying!”

“STOP FIGHTING, PLEASE!” Katharine collapsed into the nearest seat and placed a hand over her rapidly beating heart. “Please… Mr. Brooks, Ms. Scieszka… Ms. Finch. Please. Listen to me.”

“Katharine, you don’t have to tell them—” Reid knelt down to her seat and slowly rubbed his hand down her back.

“No, Reid. I can’t stay silent forever.” Katharine cleared her throat and turned toward the three. "You have to realize why Julian keeps on targeting us. Anyone who disrespects the Universal Palace becomes victim to her curse sooner or later. That's why he's killed Sierra and Jim. He has plans for all of us, I know it!”

“What on Earth do you mean, Ms. Brody?" Simon asked Katharine.

"I mean I'm Julian’s modern Evelyn Crane, Mr. Brooks. Haven't you noticed the events of the play are starting to become eerily similar to what's happening now? Think about it. He’s obsessed with a star in the making... that would be me."

"Says you," Nancy said with a huff.

"And when she fell in love with her devoted admirer," Katharine continued, eyeing Reid, "Julian went into a fit of rage and swore vengeance upon those who tried to take Evelyn away from him... just like with me and Reid! He won't stop the murders until I'm the last one standing!"

"And then the ending," Rebecca prompted her. "What about the ending?”

"You mean when Evelyn and Norman run away and elope?" Reid asked her.

"No, no, he's changed it..." Rebecca flipped open the book to show everyone the last page of Julian's revised script. Once she was certain everyone had read it, she added, "Why is he playing up this 'I killed your boyfriend and now you must marry me' trope?"

"That's what he wants!” Katharine exclaimed. “He rewrote the play to trick us into him getting his way!”

”That’s why he was so adamant about putting in the changes,” Reid added. “If he can’t get Katharine to come to him on her own free will, then he’ll make us his puppets so he wins in the end.”

"Then that's what we've gotta do to stop him,” Rebecca said. “Now that we know his plan, we can flip it to our advantage. We'll perform it, with Katharine as Evelyn, but we'll add a curveball or two to throw him off. Maybe we could even get ZAP to secure the Palace so we don't have any casualties come opening night. The curtain falls, Phantom's cast back to the shadows, and then we'll have one less Icon to worry about."

“But you don’t understand what Julian will do even if we _do_ give him what he wants,” Katharine told her warily. “I’ve told Reid this before, but you can’t stop the Icons from getting their way, especially when Fear might take over Carey. They don’t like being told no.”

“You all really believe in that prophetic demonic nonsense?” Nancy asked with a scoff.

“Most people do, unfortunately,” Simon remarked. “I think it’s best to stay optimistic!”

"Trust me, it's not just for the demon." Katharine’s face paled, devoid of any color as her hand hovered over her throat, grabbing at an invisible noose. "He's mutilated my dreams and manipulated my sorrow until I forgot how to grieve. He’s convinced me that if I don’t comply, then death is the only way out. And even then, I can only imagine what he’ll do to me after the play…” She shivered at the thought of herself as Julian’s undead bride, blood splattered on her white wedding dress and her cheeks gaunt and hollow. “I don’t want to envision it.”

“We never really heard about your connection with the Phantom and the Palace, Brody,” Rebecca said to her. “What is Julian’s motivation to kill… for you?”

“Wounded self-confidence and non-existent self-esteem, perhaps,” Nancy quipped.

"He wants to avenge any wrongs people have done on the Palace," Katharine answered. "My father resurrected Julian's thirst for vengeance, and as penance, he almost killed me, too... but my voice saved me, and it’s because he fell in love with me!”

"She's mad!" Nancy gasped.

"All the times he's left behind broken toys and dead flowers at the lost-and-found and hanged patrons who didn't behave while I was around was his twisted way of showing his love," Katharine clarified. "He's disillusioned me to the point where I don't know what's right and what's wrong anymore. All this time I thought I'd be able to stop him by playing his game when really, he was the one who tested me. He made me feel loved when no one else did! And that blinded me..." Her bottom lip began to quiver. "My passion for this project blinded me."

"So... let me get this straight." Rebecca squatted down next to Katharine's seat. "You've had this connection with Julian that he's tricked us into thinking was consensual. The lessons, I mean."

"No, that's not right." Katharine shook her head. "I initially consented to the lessons... right after he murdered one of my coworkers, Jacob. I didn't have a choice! What if I said no? He would've killed me right there and then! He caught me in his own Jigsaw trap!”

"And his quote-unquote “love” for you sparked this entire chain of events that has nearly destroyed our production," Simon added. “And you didn’t do anything to stop him.”

Katharine hung her head down guiltily. "Yes.”

The production crew did their best to stifle their shocked gasps.

“Then… if that’s true, Katharine…” Reid hesitantly kissed Katharine’s shoulder. “Then you’ve got to bring this into your own hands. Simon and Rebecca can only do so much, and so can I. You’re the key to bringing Julian Browning down once and for all.”

“I know…” Katharine’s throat throbbed with an impending sob. “I started this madness, and now I’ve got to end it. His game is ours.”

* * *

Against the Brody family's wishes - and because only one graveyard seemed to exist in a town plagued with death - Steven Brody's corpse had been buried at the infamous Caine Funeral Home, the residence of the ghastly surgeon Dr. Albert Caine, his cultish followers, and his ten-year-old daughter Cindy. Any victim of the Icons and their wrath were usually brought to the mortuary not only for mourning purposes, but unbeknownst to the victims' families, Dr. Caine used their corpses for his gory, intrusive experimenting. Finding what happens to a person and their inner workings after they die had always been his greatest quest. Many of his victims became subject to the most gruesome of surgeries, including dissections, amputations, and organ removals, all without anesthesia. Katharine preferred to believe none of this was true, and her father had been given a proper funeral, now peacefully resting six feet under at the connecting Shady Oaks Cemetery.

Katharine drove up the sprawling pathway leading to Dr. Caine's manor, a steep incline from the rest of the road. A risky thought popped up in her mind - what if she were to let go of the steering wheel and let her car fall into the creek below, therefore submerging herself into a watery grave like Shakespeare's Ophelia? At this rate, it'd be the only way to end this madness. All her life she'd been haunted by ghosts. Some touched her heart in a way only the most benevolent of souls could, finding peace in death, free from their pain and sorrow. Others were less kind, nipping at her ankles, grabbing her wrist to drag her into the cold, surrounding air. Julian happened to be both - a tortured spirit who didn't have any qualms against torturing others, especially not those he loved. Why did he continue to haunt her? To teach her a lesson? To control her? To not let others manipulate her into giving away her voice?

"Is death on your mind, Ms. Brody?"

A tap on Katharine's car window startled her back to attention. Dr. Caine, a man with death's gaze and the clothing of a Victorian noble, had opened the car door for her, greeting her with a smug grin on his wrinkled face.

“When is it not?” Katharine remarked, averting her gaze away from him. “I feel like death follows me everywhere.”

"Oh, I know the feeling, my dear girl. Death happens to be a very personal, intimate thing... almost too beautiful for words. Does it still frighten you? The impending arrival of your end?"

That's when Katharine noticed the copious amount of blood on Albert's hands and the scalpel-scissors combination he held in one of them. 

"More like the anticipation of it." She stepped out of the car, catching a faint scent of acrid formaldehyde and lavender in the air. "I'm not sure how or when I'm going to die, and I think that's what really scares me."

"Yes, yes." Albert slowly nodded. "Unfortunately for most of Carey lately, their time has come. I'd expect yours to arrive soon, too. I don't mean to terrify you, Ms. Brody, but I believe that it may arrive by _dire_ circumstances—"

"You do this all the time, Daddy." Cindy tiptoed to her father's side, tugging on the hem of his black long coat. "Shouldn't death be a surprise? It’s much more fun that way!”

“Go play with your matches, Cindy.” Albert gently dismissed his daughter with a wave of his hand. “Ask Gryffin to show you where they are.”

“Can I set one of the servants on fire?!” A wicked spark flared in Cindy’s brown eyes. “And bury their ashes in the family plot?!”

“Time permitting. Now, please. I need to speak with Ms. Brody alone.”

"Okay, Daddy." Cindy skipped away, off to go nonchalantly murder someone.

“To be honest with you, Dr. Caine, I’m only visiting for a little while,” Katharine said awkwardly. “I’ve been pretty busy with rehearsals lately, and—”

“Oh, I know." Albert smiled. "You’re involved with The Phantom of the Universal Palace, aren’t you? Master Browning has told me all about it.”

Katharine’s heart froze. Dr. Caine happened to be another one of the Icons - the herald of death, specifically. Perhaps he knew of Julian's Iconic duties and what exactly they entailed.

“W-what has he told you?” Katharine then asked him.

"That it's an utter disgrace to his story. It's making a mockery out of him and his dear Palace. The only silver lining there is, he says, is whenever you take the stage as Evelyn. Granted, it's not often, seeing as you are an understudy, but he appreciates the moments when you sing his aria and sigh his name under your breath."

“Oh…” Goosebumps prickled on Katharine’s arms. “Uh, that's just me reciting my lines."

“He’s spoken about you, too. Shall I spare you the details?” Dr. Caine raised a concerned eyebrow. “You look rather disturbed.”

“I…”

"He savors every moment when you're around him, Ms. Brody, just as he hears a shrill scream in the air and the sound of a patron's neck breaking. You're trying to run from him, I sense it. You've lost your way, and that's why you've come here... to find solace amongst the dead." Albert leaned in close to whisper in her ear. "I suggest you cease trying, Ms. Brody. Stop your recalcitrance. In the end, you belong to all of us Icons… but most importantly him. Don’t deny him. He’s all that you’ll have left.”

Katharine pushed her way past the Caretaker and dashed toward the gated entrance to the Shady Oaks Cemetery, not once pausing for a breath. Her hand reached for the black, iron door, and for a moment, she thought she heard footsteps behind her, crunching the newly-turned orange leaves underneath their feet. There always was a possibility that Julian _did_ follow her here; being an Icon, he had the ability to enter other Icons' domains without suffering ailments to his living corpse. But why would he follow her all the way here when he needed to protect his beloved Universal Palace?

"He's not here," Katharine whispered to herself as she pushed the giant door open. "He _can't_ be here."

Gravestones of unfamiliar politicians and ominous sepulchers surrounded Katharine, trapping her in a world where the dead reigned over their gloomy kingdom and imprisoned those with fresh blood flowing through their veins. As she walked down the path leading to her father’s gravestone, she pulled out a device similar to a walkie-talkie from her purse. The spirit box used to be her father's favorite piece of ghost-hunting equipment, serving its purpose both simply and effectively. Many a conversation she’s had with some of the ghosts she encountered with the spirit box still haunted her mind. She once talked to a sorrowful husband and wife who simply wanted to rest in peace after marrying and building the home of their dreams, but a deceptive scientist lured them to a life of sickness and revenge.

Katharine wanted to believe most, if not all the undead who straggled across Carey were merely poor unfortunate souls deep down inside, avenging their pain as they found a new purpose to live in their afterlife. Only until recently, she'd been unaware that her idealistic thought was nothing more than an optimistic dream.

At the end of the row was a short, unembellished gravestone surrounded by a bouquet of weeds. Katharine knew this to be her father's grave, marked by a simple, "STEVEN BRODY - 1963-2009" and an orchid placed on the top of the stone, perhaps by Cindy as she and her animal-masked Morphan friends skipped through the cemetery.

“Dad…” Katharine knelt down and placed her hand atop the gravestone. “Dad, I need your help…” She pulled up the antenna of the spirit box, pressed the ‘On’ button, and waited a moment as the radio frequencies settled, the high-pitched squeaks temporarily ringing in her ears. “I’ve brought the spirit box so you can talk to me. Are you listening?”

A pause. Then, amidst scrambled voices, a singular one replied, “Yes.”

“Oh, thank God!” Hearing snippets from different radio stations meant the spirit box did its job correctly. This is how the spirits communicated, through the voices of others. “O-okay, Dad… I’ll try to explain all of this in the best way I can. I… got a role in a play I’m doing.”

“Un-i-ver-sal Pal-ace,” the voices uttered through the frequencies.

“Yes.” How did he already know? “The play is about the Universal Palace, and I’m playing Evelyn Crane. You know, my favorite movie star? But there’s a dark force standing in my way, Dad. He’s trying to erase the past in my place, and he won’t let me grieve, even a year after you… disappeared. You were right about him. All those times you told me he’s the most elusive of the Icons and I never believed you… always saying maybe it was that clown who’s the most dangerous… and now I’ve seen his vengeance firsthand…” She burst into tears. "I wish you were here to help me, Dad! I think I've found the strength to try, but... I still need all I can get to push away the past and move on. But he... the man who killed you... won't stop haunting me with the past. Why can't it just die?"

“Help?”

“I haven’t got much of it left.” Katharine glanced down at the dying grass beneath her knees, wringing together a glade between her fingers. “Jim is dead, Dad. Julian got him, too. And now, he’s coming after me and my boyfriend! No one in the cast or crew believes me when I warn them about him. How did you make them believe, Dad? What do I need to do?”

A pause from the other side. Then, the broken voices slowly said, “It… was… your task to… make them… believe... _and you failed._ ”

_Failed?_

“Wait, what?” Katharine fiddled around with the frequencies, switching from the highest to the lowest. The voices weren’t always accurate when it came to a spirit’s answers. Maybe their words were just a malfunction, a blip on the wrong frequency. “Dad, I don’t understand—”

The spirit box released frenetic staticky sounds as the frequencies kept on changing until Katharine could no longer control them on her own. Defeated, she pressed down onto the ‘On’ switch again and threw the box into her purse, horrified by what her father said beyond the grave… if it even was her father talking to her. 

“Katharine…” A different voice, calm and buried and oddly hypnotic in the howling wind, whispered to her.

“D-Dad?” Katharine’s head perked up as she looked all around the cemetery for the man who spoke to her. Sometimes, she imagined hearing the voice of her father, comforting her with stories of the past and warm words. “Is that you?”

“You need my help, Katharine. Your Angel is here to help you.”

"Angel...?" Katharine murmured breathlessly. To her, the word 'Angel' meant something dark and foreboding, someone who twisted her mind until she believed in nothing but the very beings that would destroy her.

“Yes, Katharine… I am the Angel you hadn’t dared to forget.” A shadow, tall and lanky, crept through the hazy mist between them. “Your father and I were in… close contact before he passed. He wanted all the best for you and your voice, my dear… and that’s why he’s sent me to you.”

Spellbound by the Angel’s voice, Katharine set her purse down at her father's gravestone and aimlessly wandered in the direction where the wind caressed her skin and a beam of light flickered, soft enough not to blind her. An inkling of suspicion bubbled in a corner of her mind, yet she was quick to push it away. For so long, she’s resisted any outside help, and now guidance has come her way. There wasn’t anyone here to stop her… not Reid, not Lacey… not even anyone from the Universal Palace. Or so she thought.

“Walk this way, Katharine,” the voice told her. “Together, we won’t be cast to the shadows any longer. You’ll finally become who you’ve meant to always be… the finest actress in Carey that all will admire for decades to come, and my Palace will find new life within you. _The mortals will finally learn to behave themselves…_ ”

“Katharine?” A new voice, low and distant, called near the entryway to the graveyard, shaking the locked gate in his hands. Katharine didn’t hear the voice of her beloved Reid, fully entranced by the Angel’s spell over her. “Katharine, don’t listen to him! He’s not who you think he is!”

“Ahh, I love it when they’re unaware of the terrors in store for them.” The Angel chuckled darkly. “Who shall we conjure from the silver screen to unleash upon him, my dear? Dracula? Frankenstein’s monster? Or, how about… _the Phantom of the Opera_?”

The gate burst open with a heavy clank. Reid raced down the pathway past Katharine and charged into the so-called Angel, pinning him by the neck to the limpid-branched willow tree in the center of the cemetery.

"Reid, no!" Katharine snapped out of her trance and rushed to his side. "Stop it!”

“Take a look at who’s been trying to brainwash you, Katharine!” Reid stepped aside to reveal Julian with his usher’s hat askew and a stream of blood pouring out of his mouth. “You’re his prisoner, don’t you see that? He doesn’t love you!”

“Reid, _stop._ ” Katharine winced watching Julian struggle in Reid’s grasp, gasping and croaking for air. Is this what it was like as he hanged on the noose, flailing helplessly as he slowly succumbed to death and her rueful curse? 

“Is this what you really want, Katharine? More hangings, more victims killed in your name? We’ve got him right where we need him! We can end this once and for all, right here, right now!”

"Such gutsy words coming from you, son." Regaining his strength, Julian slipped out of Reid's grasp, readjusted his hat, and reached for his flashlight tucked underneath his arm, slowly flicking the switch on. “That is, if you’ve even got any guts left...”

"Come on, Katharine." Reid grabbed her arm and began escorting her away from the willow tree. "Let's get out while we still can."

"Oh, don't leave now..." Julian followed closely behind them, the beam of light from his flashlight lighting his way. "I know you're just... _dying_ to get away from me. How about we... heat things up between us?”

Julian lunged at Reid, pulled him back toward him, and deeply pressed the reflector part of his flashlight into his arm like a branding iron. Reid sank to his knees and released an agonizing cry as the pain seared through his arm. The fresh wound the flashlight left bubbled and hissed like bacon sizzling in a pan, leaving a thin line of steam to travel up in the air.

“Reid!” Katharine gasped and joined him down on the ground, cradling his arm in her hands. She nearly gagged at the putrid stench of burning flesh that engulfed her nostrils, biting down on her lip to the point where she drew blood. The wound reminded her of the burn scar Jim showed her, pink and crusty and never healing. 

"It was a little... punishment for his insubordination," Julian remarked coldly. "He needed to be reminded of his rude behavior, dear."

“Not like this.” Katharine lifted her head up, glaring at Julian. “Not like this!” She turned back to Reid, placing her hand on his back to help him back to his feet. 

“Don’t go …” Julian began to say, but Katharine had already made her way past the willow tree with the limping Reid in tow, briefly stopping back at her father’s gravestone to collect her purse. His brows knitted together as those horrible, obtrusive thoughts clouded his mind again, the words that weakened him and at the same time brought a new purpose to his vengeance – _She never loved you at all._ How she’s betrayed him and spurned his heart, sending his soul through the fires of Hell again…

“Oh, Katharine, my darling… you're making a very _grave_ mistake."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow my HHN tumblr at [@theusherette-official](http://www.theusherette-official.tumblr.com).


	13. Your Eyes See But My Shadow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter legit took me two months to write. _Eek._
> 
> With that said, forewarning that this chapter is a little... dark. The ending of this chapter isn't what I envisioned at first; it kind of just popped into my head while I was writing this. So if it sounds a little rushed and redundant, that's why. I might go back and edit it in the future, but for now I'll keep what I have.
> 
> Enjoy! And as usual, if you're enjoying this, don't forget to leave a kudos and/or comment!

**October 7th, 2010**

The final tech rehearsal brought a hurricane of chaos in its wake. Broken microphones, spilled makeup, and ripped costumes were just some of the many sudden problems currently plaguing the production, in addition to haywire lights and damaged backdrops. To the cast and crew, facing the horrors of tech week wasn't much out of the ordinary - mistakes happened all the time when a new production got on its feet. With devastation lingering over their heads, however, no one knew whether or not their lives would end when the curtain fell on opening night. The superstition of Julian Browning protecting his theater and executing those who weren't on their best behavior had been broken - not by disbelief, but by fear, a demand for everyone to stay on their guard, lest they hang by their necks on the rafters.

In Auditorium 2, which had been converted into a makeshift green room, Katharine stared in the mirror of her balcony turned dressing room, referring to an Autochrome photograph of Evelyn taken in 1931 on the set of her first major motion picture, _The Gates of Ruin_ , dressed in a wedding gown while holding a lit candelabra. The vampy makeup style of the Jazz Age didn't necessarily suit Katharine’s soft facial features. The thick false eyelashes, dark red lips with an exaggerated Cupid's bow, and drawn-on, pencil-thin eyebrows rivaling those of Columbia's from _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_ made her look more like a porcelain doll with Sharpie scribbled all over its face instead of a vintage starlet such as Fay Wray. Stage makeup needed to be freakishly garish to be seen from the back rows, so the look worked perfectly.

"Needs more eyeliner."

Katharine rummaged through her storage bin and pulled out a Maybelline pencil so overused it'd been worn down to its last stub. As she swept the pencil over her eyelids, Katharine reflected on all the films Evelyn starred in. More often than not, Evelyn portrayed both damsels in distress and cunning seductresses tormented, then later romanced by ghosts and monsters who searched in vain for love, just like one of the classic Universal Monster movies. It was never confirmed whether or not Evelyn harbored any romantic feelings for Julian. Not even Rebecca, who pilfered through every last newspaper in Carey U's archives, found anything - "We're working with what we got." And so, the play remained nothing but pure speculation, an attempt to put an end to eighty-year-old rumors, even though these rumors didn't even have substance to be proven.

A tall figure illuminated by a beam of light in his hands slowly strode into the balcony. Katharine didn't notice him at first, sweeping eyeliner across her waterline in a syncopated rhythm the music in her ears created. The man's face held a deathly pallor so white it could've been mistaken for white greasepaint, and his eyes were deeply sunken in, made evident by the dark rings around them. He wore the Universal Palace's Usher uniform, complete with the burgundy blazer with the gray-and-gold detailing and the pillbox hat a tad too large for his head. His locks of blonde hair were brushed back from his face, bringing attention to his sharply contoured cheeks and jaw. Blood stained his ripped, white gloves, suggesting a recent, messy altercation.

"Sir!" Once she noticed him, Katharine ripped her earbuds blaring Death Cab for Cutie music out of her ears, dropped her eyeliner pencil, and huddled herself in the white peignoir she wore - another Evelyn costume, but with a multifunctional purpose. "I... I didn’t see you there—"

"Kat." The voice of the Usher wasn't weirdly accented as usual. Rather, he spoke softly with a voice as sweet as honey. "I'm not Julian. It's Reid."

“ _Reid?_ ” Relief graced Katharine’s face as she let out a soft giggle. “Oh, I told you you'd look good as a ghastly corpse! What do you think of me?" She rose from her chair and shrugged the peignoir off her shoulders, revealing the glittering silver-and-black flapper dress she wore, her costume for the beginning of Act One. "I feel like a clown in this makeup.”

“You look terrific, Katharine.” Reid squinted his eyes – since he wore a contact lens that restricted vision in his right eye – and focused on a faint yet dark smudge on the bridge of Katharine’s nose. “You’ve just got a little smudge over here…”

“Reid, oh my God!” Katharine burst out laughing as Reid licked the pad of his finger and bent closer to her, wiping his finger over the smudge. “Too close, too close!”

“Sorry! I can’t see shit with this contact lens on. And I thought my eyesight was bad enough already.”Reid pulled his arm back. The pain from the flashlight burn seared through his arm, making him groan. "And my arm's still killing me, too. It doesn't feel like it's ever gonna heal."

“I can’t get over how much you look like him.” Katharine admired the shading on Reid’s face, daring to bring her hand to his cheek. Thankfully, the makeup didn’t budge, protected by several spritzes of barrier spray. “It’s… almost unsettling… Like, how would I know if he hasn’t taken your place like the Phantom did in the Don Juan scene?”

Reid hummed in thought. “How about this? We’ll use a codeword to let each other know that we’re both safe onstage. And well, our usual selves.”

“And what word should we use?”

“Whatever you want.”

Katharine smirked at the first word that came to mind. “Jellyfish.”

Reid nearly did a spit take. “J-jellyfish?”

“Yeah, jellyfish. Lacey and I were watching old SpongeBob episodes the other day, and her favorite’s the one with the jellyfish rave.” Katharine chuckled at Reid’s incredulous expression. The undead makeup made him look even more comedic, more like a disgruntled old man instead of a withered corpse. “It was the first thing I thought of, Reid! Don’t judge!”

“Hey, Segal, you there?” An exhausted Rebecca pushed open the curtains and stepped into the balcony. A huge, wireless headset was fixated around her head, and tendrils of blonde hair stuck to her sweaty forehead. “Oh, good. I thought you’d be here.” She turned on the microphone. “I’ve found him, Simon. He’s chillaxing with Brody, as usual.”

"Is everything fine, Rebecca?" Reid asked her in concern.

"Uh, more like the _opposite_ of fine." Rebecca pushed the microphone away from her mouth. "One of the spotlights has a huge crack in it, but thankfully it still works. The red gel is missing. And of course, just as I feared, the ghost light is entirely gone. Just vanished overnight, and no one knows where it went off to.”

"Julian…" Katharine murmured in realization.

"Shouldn't be so surprised that it _is_ him at this point," Rebecca said cockily.

"Do you need me to help you with anything?" Reid asked her.

"As a matter of fact, I do. The lighting crew still needs to figure out how to light you so your face doesn’t look like a white blob from the back row. While we're just sitting and waiting, let's see if we can fix that. Come with me."

Once Reid and Rebecca left, Katharine slipped out of the balcony and stepped down one of the staircases leading down to the lobby, the long train of her peignoir trailing behind her. Her patience waned by the second. Here she stood, vulnerable and alone, dying to catch Julian's reaction to her fully costumed and made up as his lost love from decades ago. He followed her every footstep, every word, and even her every move, so she knew he'd be here. It was her turn to be the predator and not the prey, and boy, did the sensation feel good. This had to be the most messed up improvisational exercise she’d ever partaken in.

“If my good eye isn’t deceiving me,” said a familiar voice behind her, “then it appears that Evelyn Crane has at last returned to my Universal Palace Theater.”

The smile of one who tasted blood for the very first time and only desired more crept upon Katharine’s face.

_It’s showtime._

Katharine spun on her heel to face Julian, bracing herself for the worst. His cold glare - why was he glaring at the woman he loved? - fully took in the sight of her as if he was admiring some grand, exotic bird behind glass, observing the girlishly cut bob wig excruciatingly secured to her head with bobby pins and the glittering evening gown tight on her lithe frame. Did he know she was Katharine, his wayward, tortured muse? Or did he, in this moment, truly believe that Evelyn Crane had finally returned to him?

“Julian…” Katharine mustered up her best imitation of Evelyn’s voice – high-pitched and tinged with the odd, quasi-British accent the stars of old Hollywood spoke with – and held her arms open for him. “I’ve returned to you at last!”

Julian took a step closer to her and reached out a stiff hand to caress her hair, to feel her heavily rouged cheek. Katharine didn't dare flinch at his touch, sucking in her breath. Caught in a storm of vengeance, Julian's motives were always unpredictable. She mentally prepared herself for whatever may come her way.

" _Fifty-five years..._ ” Julian’s voice sounded cold, too. Did he instantly see through her disguise? “Fifty-five years I've waited for you to finally return. I may have been deep-sixed before, but waiting six _decades_ is an awfully crueler fate than death itself.” His hand slowly slid down past her jaw and down to her throat. “This condemned spirit has been haunted by memories of love and crime and death, to quote a fellow Kerezan. I’ve suffered _endlessly_ for you… and I waited, anticipating the moment when you’d rise from the dead just as I did… but you never came, even after everything I’ve done to keep your memory alive… So, tell me… _what took so long_ _?_ ”

Katharine's mind filled with all the factoids she knew about Evelyn, especially anything about her final years in seclusion to explain why she’d been away for so long. Pinning down whether or not she really loved Julian in return was like analyzing a character in an intangible play, reading their lines and stage directions over and over to discover any hidden meanings. What made her run away? What made her hole up in the shabby apartment she called home after Norman presumably died of alcohol poisoning?

"I never made another picture after The Dark Chapter." Her thoughts formed into memories she never lived through, as if, at that moment, she gained Evelyn’s own memories and perspective. "Norman said the picture ruined my career forever. Cursed, he thought I was. First the Palace, then the picture. And then I lost him..." She gave a haughty chuckle. "Don't you remember what Variety said?"

"Ironically its title foretold the subsequent phase in the actress's life," Julian intoned as if reciting a poem.

"Yes." He knew that article too, right down to the last word. "No one saw me as that cinematic siren any longer. People preferred to flock to those sappy romance films... melodramatic farces that touched the heart rather than spike up the adrenaline. I was shoved aside for Lauren Bacall and Ingrid Bergman, for Christ's sake! Look what happened to them... they’re, from what I hear, still honored and respected to this very day. And what did I land up with? Nothing. I became _nothing._ I drifted into obscurity the moment that picture was released. And don't get me started on naive little Helen Dean..."

Helen Dean was one of Evelyn's co-stars in _The Dark Chapter_ ; in fact, she played the ingenue role Evelyn used to play in her earlier films. At the premiere of the film, the press swarmed over Dean like buzzing bees, thirsty for young blood and a new talent to corrupt, and in turn, Evelyn was banished to the shadows, barred from basking in the limelight that should've been hers. This premiere - and the scathing _Dark Chapter_ reviews that followed - was the last time any news on Evelyn's presence was released to the public. After that fateful Variety article, no one knew what happened to the then forty-year-old actress and her faded vitality.

"I’ve told you all those women are inferior to you, Evelyn," Julian told her cautiously.

Katharine sighed with a feigned disdain. "That's not the point, Julian. I can care less about what _they_ think of me, but the patrons… I wanted to make the patrons love me, even in the decades that followed. But my magic is dead, and always has been. That's why I cloistered myself from the world... and you. I didn't want you to see me like this, a fallen woman who's nothing more than a faded star. Without my glory, I am nothing."

"I offered you that gift." Julian cradled her chin in his cold hand, a lover’s caress. "I offered you the gift of immortality, but you viciously refused…”

"Because dying to feel alive isn't what's right, darling!" Oh, how she cringed calling him such a term of endearment. "Don’t you think this Palace has both made us endure strange things? She's changed us both into the things we fear most! Me, an actress with nothing but absinthe and cigarettes to turn to, and you... a killer! I didn’t understand before, but now I want to know. Why does the Palace make you kill anyone who even briefly disregards one of the rules? Why do you kill? _Who_ do you kill for? Is it vengeance? Is it some kind of deity you worship?  _Is it me?_ "

Julian hesitated, averting his gaze from her like a guilty child accused of stealing a toy. In that brief moment, Katharine realized the power she had over Julian as Evelyn, how the golden star stunned him with her mere presence. Art and beauty were things they both admired greatly. The Universal Palace Theater brought them both together. He, the Usher devoted to protecting her, and she, the actress who brought her spell of seduction to the theater. She thought back to that magic of transcendence that inspired her as a child, how Evelyn's characters wooed over monsters with her beauty and charm. Now, she lived in her own horror movie, trying to talk that tortured ghost down from hurting the ones she loved most.

“Please, tell me,” Katharine demanded, lowering her voice a notch. “I promise I’ll listen this time. When you became one with the living dead, _what_ happened to you? You’re not the Julian I once knew. That smiling, boyish Julian who lit up like a jack-o-lantern whenever the reel of one of Universal’s latest horror movies arrived. What happened?”

 _“See what I told you, dearest Julian?”_ The sultry voice of the Palace’s spirit entered Julian’s mind, snarling in his ear. _“She has never understood what I do for you… what we do together! Out of all who dare to revel in my glorious beauty, she is the one who has desecrated me the most… thinking she can just barge in here and take you from me! When has she shown me any respect, hmm?”_

“Not now,” Julian muttered, raising a hand to his hollow temple. “Please, my dear Palace, not now…”

“What is she saying?” Katharine crossed her arms in front of her. “It’s the Palace talking to you, isn’t it?”

Julian shook his head. "Never mind what she thinks. I have always said _you_ are the queen of this Palace, Evelyn. When I dispose of those patrons who dare to disrespect my theater, I always think of you. They're desecrating what we created together... this beautiful Palace where cinema is worshipped to the highest of standards. Where our souls combine as _one._ ” He turned his face away from her, ashamedly glancing down at his feet. “You were my only friend, Evelyn. The only one to stop and discuss films with me, the only one who didn’t see me as a meager devotee of cinema trying to make his living. You saw past my tragedies.”

”What—“ Katharine began to ask him. She quickly stopped herself, in fear of breaking character.

Julian looked up at her again, tears spilling down his hollow cheeks. "The day when you left for Hollywood was the worst day of my entire life, Evelyn. I remember your last words to me... you said you wanted to become a star all would love and admire, but I knew that fate would twist your glory and cast you to the shadows. I didn't want you to go!"

Katharine was rendered speechless. There must be more to Evelyn's story, _way more_ than she initially thought.

Gently, she brought her hand to Julian's cheek, and lifted his head, searching in his eyes for that glimpse of sorrow and pain she once noticed lingering whenever he coached her about Evelyn's subtle mannerisms and speech patterns. Who knew that his lessons served as her great benefit now, helping her create a portrayal of Evelyn so believable that Julian thought she was the real deal?

"The Palace is holding you back," Whether she said this as herself or as Evelyn, the lines became blurred. "You need to let her go. She doesn't control you!"

"She made me do it, Evelyn!" Julian propped his hands on her shoulders for balance. "I tried to make her stop, but she swore she'd set herself on fire if I didn't obey her commands! It’s why all those patrons suffered at my hands! It's why _I was the man who killed you!_ "

A piercing gasp as loud as the howling wind outside escaped from Katharine’s parted lips. Julian... did _what?!_

"B-but that doesn't matter anymore, does it?" Noticing her look of utmost horror, Julian quickly changed the subject, awkwardly giggling. "Yes, let's not talk about it. You're here now, and that's all that matters. Evelyn..." He grabbed her hands again, this time squeezing them tightly. "Oh, my dearest Evelyn. Things are finally shaping up again. Just wait until you find out how the mortals have manipulated our story. Making Norman Edwards a hero, and me the villain... what utter nonsense..."

Familiar brown eyes full of fear stopped Julian from his ranting. Evelyn never had that look of pure fear in her eyes, not unless she played one of her most famous characters up on the silver screen. He'd seen that look from another young lady before, however, down in his lair, when she had nowhere to go and no salvation but him. The way she squirmed so uncomfortably when he confessed his love for her, the only link to Evelyn that remained in these modern times... for she would be her replacement. A soul for a soul.

_Oh, she’s such a good actress… but not good enough to efficiently mask her fear._

Julian tightly ripped the wig off Katharine's head, freeing her wavy locks of dark hair stuffed underneath it. As the tips of the bobby pins nearly dug into her scalp, Katharine let out a groan of pain, bringing a hand to her head. Julian chuckled sardonically. With Evelyn's vampy makeup style applied on her face, the girl looked more like a child who rummaged through her mother's makeup and played dress-up with her ill-fitting clothing.

"I had to do it, Julian!" Katharine cried. "If you wouldn't listen to me, then you'd listen to _her!_ You have to understand! Evelyn Crane is dead, and she's not coming back!"

Julian grabbed Katharine by the pearl necklace she wore around her neck. "I think it's time for you to learn the truth, my dear.” He clasped his hand around her mouth and pulled her close to him. "If you go as far as to mutter _one single word_ in my presence, I will cut out your tongue and throw your neck in the empty noose I've been saving just for you."

With no other choice but to follow him, Katharine let herself be dragged by Julian down to his underground lair, where the candles burned smokily and the sickly scent of death filled the air. Her mind tried to comprehend all the information she'd just been given. If Evelyn didn't die in seclusion, then how did Julian supposedly kill her? What did Norman think about all this? With the truth in Julian's grasp, would the play be affected at all?

Julian threw Katharine down on the metal slab where Sierra's corpse once lay. Pain shot through her hip as she steadied herself, tucking her body into her knees.

"So, where do I begin?" Julian stepped in front of the mysterious vault Jim once told her about. "Ahh, yes. I advise you to forget everything you thought you knew about Evelyn. What you believed was entirely fiction. You see, Evelyn was all bite and no bark. Those coquettish damsel in distress illusions she conjured? That aura of innocence and grace? That was all a facade. Evelyn Crane had such a wicked heart... and I deeply admired her for that. Now, Ms. Brody, what do you personally think Norman Edwards died of?"

"A-alcohol poisoning?" Katharine squeaked.

"You're wrong. The night after the premiere of The Dark Chapter, a film that you might know that Norman forced Evelyn to star in to help him pay off his many gambling debts" - Katharine did _not_ know this - "Evelyn took matters into her own hands. I’ll admit, she had such potential. She truly learned from the best…”

Julian did not say what exactly Evelyn did. He let the smug, unadulterated grin of euphoria on his face inform Katharine the truth about her favorite actress, her idol, the very woman who inspired her to become a revered actress herself.

"Give me proof." Katharine defiantly slid off the slab, glaring at him. "I don't believe you!”

“With pleasure.”

Julian wandered into a curtained room near his organ and returned with a medium-sized chest crafted from dark wood. The faint, musty scent of old paper and dried-up ink filled Katharine's nostrils as he opened the chest for her, revealing dozens of yellowed newspaper clippings and faded photographs neatly stacked together.

Katharine’s fingertips gravitated toward the newspapers. Shocking headlines greeted her: "Norman Edwards, Beloved Movie Star, Found Hanged After Premiere of Latest Film," read one. "Helen Dean Found Gruesomely Dismembered at Local Sewer Plant", said another. She quickly skimmed through the texts as Julian kept his cold glance on her, basking in her horrified reactions. Words she never dreamed of associating with Evelyn popped out at her: 'bludgeoned', 'bloodless', 'brutalized.' A far cry from the graceful, sophisticated star that once called the silver screen home.

“H-how did you find all of this?” Katharine asked him with a sense of horrified wonder.

“I had the news personally pulled from the university’s archives,” Julian told her simply. “You remember James, don’t you? Your dear manager? I sent him to the university and informed him to gather up any last evidence about Evelyn’s little murder spree so that no one would ever learn the so-called legendary truth.”

At the bottom of the chest, a black-and-white photograph marked, “Universal Palace, 1930” in faded blue ink on the back caught Katharine’s interest. Her fingers swept it up and into her hands, and once her eyes made out the faces in the dim light of the lair, she realized she was looking at a photograph of Evelyn and Julian standing together in the lobby. Evelyn wore a black, feathered flapper headband and a dress of sparkling diamonds, similar to the costume Katharine currently wore. Her dark eyes glittered with happiness, a smile beaming on her face as she tightly held Julian’s hand in the photo.

Julian, on the other hand, didn't even closely resemble the living corpse standing near Katharine. Without his bruised eyes and gaunt facial structure, he looked like any other man she'd pass by on the street. In the photo, he held his usher's hat over his heart. He had somewhat of a receding hairline slicked back with an excessive amount of hair grease, a sharp jawline, and eyes faintly darkened with kohl like Rudolph Valentino. A smile – a genuine one, wide and a bit toothy – graced his face.

Denial hit Katharine's heart as quick as a falling brick. All this time, she'd been told lies and believed in her own. Evelyn hadn't been tormented. Julian wasn't her stalker. They both loved each other very much, and their love ushered them both to the darkest depths of human suffering. Julian did this all to protect her - Evelyn, that was, not just the Universal Palace. Although her body and soul may be permanently dead, her memory was kept alive in the Palace, her spiritual resting place.

“Y-you really loved her…” Katharine let the photograph float out of her hand and down to the ground. “And… she loved you, too.”

“Oh, we had a romance to rival Chucky and Tiffany, my love. You really believed she loved her precious Norman? Hollywood changed her into a woman fond of money and luxuries, yes, but also, she learned how to properly play her cards… that was, until the police caught wind of her misdeeds. Only one could ever understand her plight of being a killer on the loose, and it was me. There was nothing more she could do. Either spend the rest of her life locked in a rusty cage or live in immortality with me at her side. She eventually chose the latter. And just when I was about to give her the lethal kiss that would bring us together in death, _they shot her down._ I had no choice but to end her suffering, so she died at the hands of the man she loved. SHE DIED IN MY ARMS!”

Tears slid down Katharine’s cheeks, sending a black mess of melted makeup down her face. The Icons of Carey each had their different reasons behind their murder and madness. Chaos killed for the fun of it. Death killed for discovery. Sacrifice killed for art, and Legend killed for discipline. But Vengeance? Poor, unhappy Vengeance, with only admiration and veneration in his dead heart? He killed for _love._

What Julian did next shocked her. The Usher slowly crumbled to his knees, gently grabbed the hem of her costume, and started to sob agonizingly, burying his wet face into the glittering fabric. Katharine could only stand frozen, oddly mesmerized by the mental unraveling of such a feared figure. She thought of all those sad ghosts she encountered along with her father, how in death they found freedom from their pain and loss, how deep down inside, they were merely sad souls not entirely hellbent on revenge, despite that being their aura. In death, there is always a drive - not formed from the loosening of the mind as it further decayed, but by the weakening of the heart as the dead relived their memories before they became full of nothing but hate.

She didn’t know the most relentless of undead could be broken-hearted, too.

Katharine sighed deeply, thinking the possibilities through in her mind. This may be the only way to save the production, her friends, and most importantly, Reid, whose life dangled as a frazzled noose in between her eyes. She wouldn't agree to a lifetime of suffering for her own sake. Sacrifices often come with a new understanding of love, how it brought people together and sent them through tribulations beyond one's wildest imagination. This will exorcise the ghosts from her soul, the demons lingering in her thoughts.

She's decided - no going back now.

"Say I did decide to join you down here." Katharine gulped down her fear and squared her shoulders. "For the rest of my life, that is. Or however long you want me to. What... what _exactly_ would you do with me?"

"Your boy's life would be spared, for starters," Julian said, keeping his eyes on the sequins on her dress and not her face, "in addition to the lives of the cast and crew of your little production... but that's dependent on the quality of their performances tomorrow night, of course.” He then lifted his head to look at her. The almost vulnerable look in his eyes made Katharine’s heart sink to her stomach. “But most importantly, I won't ever lay a scratch on you. Not now, not ever. If my fellow Icons even think of laying a hand on you, I will ensure it'll be their blood that's spilled, not yours. The new age of darkness is soon to begin, Katharine... and I will make sure that you are safe from the Hell it will bring. Trust me."

"And what of my soul?" Katharine asked him. "Will it be the Fear demon’s, or yours?"

"It will belong to no one but yourself... not until you're ready to join me at the threshold of life after death."

Katharine brought her hand to Julian's wet, hollow cheek, and brushed away more incoming tears. "One more day," she told him. "One more day of freedom is all I ask for. Let me do the play, and I promise to do whatever you wish." She paused, before adding, "But on one condition. Do not hurt _anybody._ Not Reid, not Nancy, not Simon or Rebecca. We’re honoring your wishes by performing your version of the play. Now honor ours by sparing our souls.”

A grin bearing yellowed, blood-stained teeth, similar to the one in the portrait of him with Evelyn, spread on Julian's face.

"Your word is my command."

An icy burst shot through Katharine's spine. He absolutely did not mean it; she wouldn't be surprised to see a fellow cast member hanging by their neck or savaged by a summoned movie monster by the end of tomorrow evening's performance. She despised this game she had to play with him, upping the stakes for her survival - but she must, lest she lose her life. She'll keep fighting for herself and Reid until the only thing left was a corpse stripped bare of its soul.

"Oh, but you must go!" Julian straightened out her rumpled dress like she was a doll who fell from her perch in the toyshop window. "They'll wonder where you are, won't they? You're the star of the show, after all, and besides, they have no understudy left... dead or alive."

"Um... Julian?" Katharine barely managed to whisper.

“Hmm?” He continued fixing her up, fluffing out her hair and wiping away the dried black tears on her face.

“Now that I know the truth about Evelyn… do you have any… _pointers_ that I should adapt to my performance?”

Julian stepped away from her, admiring his work with a hum of approval. "Well, if I have to be honest... you play up her vulnerable side too much, my dear. Of course, it suits the first two scenes, but the rest? Her taste for blood landed on her tongue the moment she met Norman. Don’t be afraid to tap into your darker side. Think of that diva, Nancy Bianca Emily—”

“ _Eliza,_ ” Katharine gently corrected him.

“Too many names for me to remember. That’s what being around for nearly a century does to you, darling. Think of her, but repress the theatrics and play up the… ah…” He struggled to think of the right term to use.

“The thoughts of murder that could rival an Icon’s?” Katharine suggested.

“That works.” Julian chuckled lightly. “Now, off you go, my dear. _Knock them dead_.”

He waited for Katharine to wander deep into the corridor leading back upstairs to the lobby before taking the key to his vault out of his pocket. His fingertips glided across the smooth, curved metal hesitantly, tracing along the ridges of the key. Then, he inserted the oddly-shaped key into the lock on the center of the vault door, freeing the tightened mechanism that locked the wheel below it in place. He twisted the wheel around and around until the door slowly opened on its own, revealing the hidden room no one, not even his minions, knew about.

On a makeshift funeral bier covered with wilted lilies and lifeless roses, lay the embalmed corpse of Evelyn Crane herself, dressed in her wedding gown from _The Gates of Ruin_ with her bony arms crossed in front of her chest. A look of bliss was permanently fixed on her waxen face, something Julian requested Dr. Caine to apply when he preserved her corpse many decades ago. The good doctor had done his job well. Now, Evelyn finally rested in this very theater she once called home, in this private mausoleum he created for her so that no one tried to take her from him ever again. Her dark legacy will be celebrated for however long he shall live in his undead state, preserved for those who will come after her.

Julian once had dreams that Evelyn would indeed come back to life and live with him in immortality, but he'd been too late... by a fraction of a second, said Lady Luck when he visited her in her domain, with Evelyn's corpse lying limp in his arms. Nowadays, he brushed it off as some naive thought he had in the spur of the moment, the small shred of hope he desperately clang to.

"You've resurrected countless people before," Julian told her pleadingly. "Why can't you do the same for my Evelyn?"

Luck's bright green eyes emotionlessly scanned Evelyn up and down, focusing on the gaping gunshot wound in the center of her chest. After a dismayed click of her tongue, she told Julian rather coldly, "I don't take requests." And she said no more.

Bad luck flirted with him since the moment he opened his eyes to the world, from what it seemed. It took all who he cared for from him - Edith, his mother Lillian, Evelyn - and he'd hate to see Katharine meander toward the pathway her spellbinding illusions created. She'd be safer down here in the theater, with him. How did she not realize this? A war was on Carey's horizon. Wasn’t it safer to join the side of the undead than stray in the middle of the crosshairs? What did that black-haired vixen with the leather jacket and the rifle who shot all the Kerezans guarding his theater call it… an _ally?_

 _Katharine belongs to_ me, _God be damned!_

Julian stepped toward the funeral bier and laid a kiss upon Evelyn’s pale forehead.

“Forgive me, Evelyn. Like the role of Helen Grovesnor that you so greatly deserved, I want to see the world and its new wonders… and for me to fulfill this task, I must pull myself to the future, and not dwell in the past, like my master always says. I sincerely hope you'll understand."

He spent the rest of the night grieving for the love that practically died along with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow my HHN blog on Tumblr: [@theusheretteofficial](http://www.theusherette-official.tumblr.com).


	14. Devil Take the Hindmost

**October 8 th, 2010**

**The Premiere of “The Phantom of the Universal Palace”**

The Universal Palace Theater hadn't hosted a sold-out crowd since the premiere of Evelyn Crane's final film, 1945's _The Dark Chapter_. Some called the doomed event the inspiration behind the onslaught of the Palace's various murders and tragedies that eventually befell her reputation and left her alone to brood in the darkness with only a cascade of dust and echoes of screams in her wake. Since then, only the bravest of souls - or those who didn't feel like driving all the way to Toledo or Columbus to catch the latest horror movie - willingly walked into the Palace with their ticket in hand, unknowingly sacrificing themselves to the monsters playing on the silver screen and their reign of carnage.

But now, if one walked by the Universal Palace, they would've thought they'd been transported back to the 1930s, the prime of the theater's life when she played to clamoring crowds and avid cinema buffs. The marquee lights shone onto the streets as brightly as ever, and the alluring scent of buttery popcorn wafted out onto the streets, tempting the hunger of the several patrons waiting outside. Although the Palace wasn't showing any movies this evening, she was about to play host to Carey's biggest feat of live entertainment since the taping of the H.R. Bloodengutz Variety Hour that lasted for a grand total of forty-five minutes before being shut down by local police.

All four showings of "The Phantom of the Universal Palace" sold out in record time, and even the standing-room-only spots were taken. A proud, almost pompous smile spread over Simon’s dark face as he watched the waiting crowds from one of the lobby’s windows, reflecting on what Mayor Reynolds told him back in his office – “What makes you think people want to see a play about what’s threatening their lives?” The answer stood right in front of them – this play served not as a warning, but as inspiration for a call to action, a story about surviving through the oddest of means.

In Auditorium 3, Reid paced up and down the aisles anxiously, playing with a loose, burgundy thread on his sleeve. He occasionally glanced up at the balconies, and although the curtains were drawn, hallucinations of light and shadows played tricks with his clear eye. His heart tingled unpleasantly at the thought of Julian standing in his balcony once the lights were dimmed, his mismatched gaze fixated on Katharine. They’d gone over their plan several times, familiarizing themselves with each emergency exit in the auditorium and what weapons of survival they had at their disposal, just in case. They even added an extra word to their "Jellyfish" code - they'd use just "Jellyfish" to ensure each other's presence, and "Box jellyfish" if either of them felt they were in danger. Reid prayed he wouldn't need to use the latter, though knowing tonight's circumstances, he'd probably hear it at least twice.

“He likes to take his time,” a young woman with a husky, Southern-accented voice crooned from behind him.

Reid whipped around, meeting the green-eyed gaze of a woman clad in a leather jacket with a rifle slung against her shoulder. Members of the Zombie Awareness Program were hired to serve as the play's security detail, including Kristen Romero, daughter of the renowned zombie hunter Tom Romero, a fact she liked to reiterate to every new person she encountered. She, along with her "comrades", as she called them, took their task of defending Carey against the living dead to almost zealous levels, leaving trails of dry blood and chunks of gore in their tracks. It made Reid wonder just how exactly people choked up hundreds of dollars to participate in ZAP's "Zombie Hunting 101" classes, only to be bitten by a Kerezan and die on the battlefield less than a week later, with their newfound knowledge barely engrained in their minds.

“And you know this… _how?_ ” Reid asked Kristen suspiciously.

“I’m a living, breathing encyclopedia when it comes to all these Icons,” Kristen told him, taking a seat in one of the rows. The way she stretched her legs on top of the seat in front of her made Reid cringe. “I can tell you their strengths, their weaknesses… I could even tell you how fast it takes Julian to get from Point A to Point B.” She lowered her voice for dramatic effect. “Spoiler, it’s like, two seconds. _He can walk through walls._ ”

“Um… all right, then.” _That explains how he was able to mess with Lt. Grimaldi,_ Reid remembered. “So, Kristen, do you know what you and your… _comrades_ are doing during the show?”

Kristen nodded eagerly. “Rebecca told me. I’ve got Ethan at stage right and Nina at stage left.”

“You mean Ethan at stage left and Nina at stage right,” Reid corrected her. He eyed the two comrades standing in their spots in the wings, jokingly making faces and sticking their tongues out at each other as if they were miscreant schoolchildren.  

“What, is it the opposite when it comes to the theatre?”

Reid nodded, trying not to roll his eyes at her ignorance of basic theatre terminology.

“Oh… I didn’t know that!” Kristen chuckled. “For a second there, I thought I’d entirely forgotten my left from my right. So anyway, I’ve got them in the wings, and some of my other guys in the house, while I’ll be in the orchestra pit, watching that central balcony like a hawk!”

“Right. And if you see any sign of Julian or his minions—”

“I’ll shoot to kill!”

“But you know _when_ to shoot, right? It can’t just be at any random moment.”

“Don’t worry. I always know.” Kristen gave him a grin so eerie and wide that she could’ve been mistaken for one of the murderous Icons themselves. She quickly relaxed her jaw upon noticing how absolutely _terrified_ Reid looked at her expression. “Woah dude, didn’t mean to scare you! What’s the matter? Stage fright got the best of you or something?”

“No.” Reid sighed in anguish. “Well, a little. It’s just that I’m worried about Katharine, as always.”

“You mean the chick playing Evelyn in the show?”

Reid nodded. “I don’t know if you know the whole story, but—”

“Dude, all of Carey knows about Katharine Brody at this point. Her ghost hunter dad’s been dead for over a year, she’s being wrongfully accused of crimes she didn’t commit, and, oh yeah, forgot the most important part… Julian’s creepily in love with her!”

“And not just that. I have reasons to believe that she loves him back.”

Kristen snorted. “Well, at least _someone’s_ able to love that creepy Tower of Terror bellhop reject for who he is. But why do you think she’s got the hots for him? Is he really _that_ attractive to her?”

"Well..." Reid sat down in the seat in front of Kristen’s, propping his gloved hands against the headrest. "Last night after rehearsal, I found Katharine in hysterics, standing near the breakroom. I asked her what was wrong, or if Julian did something to her, but she wouldn't reply. She just kept on crying..."

In his mind, Reid replayed the events of last night. After he vigorously rubbed off the undead contours and shadows on his face, he searched all over the lobby for Katharine, eventually finding her sitting with her knees tucked in over by a strange black gate near the breakroom. Her heavy Evelyn makeup had melted messily on her face, black tear streaks streaming down her eyes like that of a metal musician's corpse paint, and her hair had been freed from her pin curls, frizzy and sitting in awkward curls around her face.

She wouldn't say a word. She kept on eyeing that gate as if her life depended upon it, drawn by the darkness beyond it, words she desperately wanted to say but didn't have the energy to trapped behind her parted mouth. Her face may have suggested fear, but her body language told another story. She wasn't trembling or recoiling within herself. No. She stood in the midst of a split decision, wavering between staying or going. Almost as if she didn't want to leave the Usher alone.

"Go on," Kristen prompted Reid, snapping him out of his trance.

"So, she wouldn't talk to me like, all night, and into this morning, unless we were feeding lines to each other. I swear, Julian's done something to her and it's to the point where I don't think the Katharine I once knew will ever come back."

Kristen placed one hand atop Reid’s. “It’s official. Not only do you have a horrific case of stage fright, but you’ve also got some serious self-entitlement issues.”

“ _Self-entitlement issues?_ ” Reid shot the zombie hunter an appalled look. “You don’t know anything about us!”

“Okay, first off, your hands have been jittering ever since we first started talking, so when we’re through, please buy yourself a pretzel from the concession stand or something. Second of all, if Katharine says to give her some space, then do that! She's not a kid. She's able to make her own decisions for herself."

“Yeah, but when your girlfriend is possibly in love with an undead movie theater usher who bashes people’s heads in with his flashlight when they text or talk during the movie, then I think we’ve got a problem.”

“This has nothing to do with Julian.” Kristen paused. “Look, I’ve seen Katharine in some of Carey U’s plays. Beautiful voice, great actress. I even saw that little Joseph show y’all did a few years back when my dad and I were visiting with a friend of his. I’ll say, you guys have great chemistry… but you’ve got to realize that y’all were still young back then. Fifteen, sixteen, whatever. You guys were practically still babies! Things change in the years you’re apart from someone you love. Time changes a person, makes them more nihilistic… less vulnerable to the dangers of the world. The reason why you say that Katharine’s, quote-unquote, “Not the same,” is because the ghosts that play tricks with our minds don’t ever leave us. They stay with us until we die, and even then, they’ll haunt us at our graves, too. She’s playing a twisted game of life with an uncontrollable spinner right now, and if you want her to win, then you’ve got to take a step back and let her decide how she’s gonna call checkmate. She’s in full-on survival mode and if she breaks that shell, it’ll mean death to you all. Katharine is much stronger than you think she is, Reid. If Julian goes after _you,_ what will you do?”

Reid stared blankly at her, taken aback by her words. “I…I honestly don’t know.”

Kristen’s face crumpled, dismayed with his answer. “You’ve got to fight for yourself, too! That’s what I’m saying! Don’t just let Katharine do all the work. I’m not saying you should form an angry mob to go after him, but—"

“ _Romero!_ ” Rebecca stormed into the auditorium, her headset askew on her head and her hand tightly clenching a clipboard barely holding all her notes. “I didn’t pay you or your Russian revolutionaries to just stand around here and dawdle! You were supposed to tell the ushers to let in the patrons over fifteen minutes ago!” She angrily checked her watch. “And now we’re about fifteen minutes _behind schedule!_ ”

“Heh, sorry.” Kristen’s pale face steamed beet red. “It’s just like… the thrill of the kill gets to my head.”

“Save it for the paintball range. And Segal?” Rebecca raised an amused eyebrow. “How come you’re not backstage consoling Katharine or whatever it is you need to do before getting into character?”

“I—” Reid began to say.

“Actually, no offense, but I don’t have time to hear it right now. You need to get your ass backstage!” Sighing in exasperation, Rebecca pushed the microphone close to her mouth. “Yeah, yeah, Simon. There was just a brief delay—”

“A brief delay?!” Simon’s voice projected from the earpiece of Rebecca’s headset so loudly that even Reid and Kristen could hear it. “Is it the Phantom—”

“For God’s sake, it’s _not_ the Phantom! If he was here, I’d be hearing him whisper, “Ooh, Rebecca, I’m going to kill you because I’m a creepy homicidal maniac” in my ear!” She pushed the microphone away, groaning. “You two haven’t seen anything suspicious, have you?”

Reid and Kristen shook their heads. For once, everything had been quiet, at least for now.

“Oh, good. I was—” Then, Rebecca noticed the bare stage, no set furnishings or backdrops to be seen. “Um, HELLO!?!? STAGEHANDS? If nobody sends down the curtains and preps the stage for Scene One in the next two minutes, I swear I’ll do all of this myself! UGH!” She marched her way toward four anxious-looking stagehands dressed head-to-toe in black scurrying to a large set-piece waiting in the wings.

“She’s a bit of a pushover,” Kristen commented with a smirk.

“Yeah, but she means well,” Reid told her. “Out of all the directors I’ve worked with, Rebecca’s the best. She’s got her heart set out on a vision and always knows how to execute it correctly.”

“Like Paulo Ravinski, who gruesomely murders people for the art of film?”

“Wh—” Reid grimaced. He didn’t even want to know how Kristen came to her sometimes macabre conclusions. A director who killed for the art of film? What was she even talking about? “You know what? I’m just gonna… uh…  I just remembered I need to run a scene with Katharine before the show starts. And besides, the house just opened, you’ve got to focus on that! Um, see you later!” He quickly dashed out of the auditorium, utterly freaked out by what he heard.

Kristen shook her head, stifling a laugh underneath her hand. “That guy’s definitely not ready for what’s coming his way.”

* * *

In Auditorium 2, the cast buzzed with the energy of avid coffee drinkers as they chattered over buckling character dance shoes into place and blotting away excess lipstick, adjusting wigs and taking one more glance at the script. Lacey and her fellow dancers - Justine, Megan, and Dawn - used the dead period of time to loiter about the stage, stretching on the barres provided to them. Overly cheery pop music resonated through the portable speaker Megan set down at the apron of the stage, relieving them of their fright the silence only amplified. Occasionally, one of the girls anxiously looked behind her shoulder, wondering whether or not she spotted a lingering shadow or a beam of light from the Phantom's flashlight. Calls of, "All clear" and, "No undead activity spotted" echoed through ZAP's walkie-talkies, bringing a bit of relief to the cast and crew's tension, but anticipation always proved to be the best part of earning the kill. The Usher was simply taking his time before he'd be able to strike.

"Will you turn that racket down?!" Nancy, her face caked in unblended pale foundation and her auburn hair in curlers, threw open the curtain of her balcony, leaning down over the ledge to bark at them. "I am trying to get into character here!"

"Sorry, Ms. Finch!" Trembling, Megan bent down and lowered her speaker’s volume. Once her confidence returned, she turned back to her fellow dancers and said, "Getting into character for _what?_ It’s not like she has a huge role or anything.”

"Especially since the Phantom's forced Mr. Brooks to cast Katharine as Evelyn!" Dawn exclaimed. With a shiver, she added, "I hope he doesn't come after us, too..."

"He won’t bother us, Dawn," Lacey told her reassuringly. "Just as long as we’re respectful to the Universal Palace, the Phantom won’t hurt us.”

"Who's told you that?" Justine asked Lacey.

"As a matter of fact, Katharine did.” Lacey swung her leg off the barre, finishing into a _plie._ “She's told me lots of things about the Phantom, actually. _Scary_ things.”

"Like how he killed Sierra?" Dawn chirped a bit too enthusiastically for the matter. "I heard he cut open her mouth and sucked out all her blood!"

" _Ewww!_ " Megan cupped her hands over her mouth.

"And how he burns into people's arms with his flashlight!" Justine added. "Like, he burned Reid’s arm! Did you see that huge bandage on his arm the other day, girls?” The others nodded, cooing in sympathy. “Poor baby!”

"What has he done to Katharine, Lacey?" Megan then asked. "You've got any juicy gossip to tell us?"

"I... don't really feel comfortable spilling.” Lacey glanced up at Katharine’s dressing room balcony. The curtains were closed for her privacy, and the only way to tell someone resided in the balcony was a faint slimmer of light behind them. “She’s been through Hell and back because of him.”

"Ooh, is it because he's got a crush on her?" Justine guessed.

"Or maybe he wants to eat her?" Megan theorized.

"No, no, it's not like that!" Lacey exclaimed. "He's… well…”

“ _Shh!_ ” Dawn’s blue eyes focused fearfully on a shadow looming in the wings. “Someone’s coming!”

“It’s probably just Nancy coming to bitch at us again,” Justine said with a roll of her eyes.

“No, I don’t think so…”

Reid strolled onto the stage, the prop flashlight in his hands eerily illuminating his face. He held back a chuckle as the dancers slowly turned their heads in his direction, their chests sucked in and their breathing hitched. To them, he was barely recognizable, dressed in the clothes of a murderer and his face beaten and bruised by makeup. The thought made him wonder: is this what it's like to be feared by innocent people? Is this what it's like to discover that people only know you by a story they've never lived through, only heard distant murmurings of?

Fear finally registering in their minds, the dancers screamed at the top of their lungs and tried fleeing from the stage, knocking over the barre and each other in the process. Hands hovered over faces and feet tripped over invisible ropes as they clumsily stumbled through the shadows, desperately seeking freedom from a random fate worse than death.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake!” Nancy nearly threw herself off the balcony as she tore open the curtains and slammed her hands atop the ledge. “ _BE QUIET!!!_ ”

“But _it’s_ _the Phantom!_ ” Dawn screeched. “He’s here, he’s here!”

"Oh, is he?" Nancy bellowed, relishing in the girls' terror. "The next thing you'll be telling me is that a backdrop will come tumbling down from the rafters and break my skull!" She harrumphed and retreated back to her balcony.

"Hey no, no!" Reid rushed over to the dancers, taking off his hat to free his blonde curls, proving his identity. "I'm not the real Julian! It's just Reid!"

“ _Reid?!_ ” Lacey lifted her face from her hands and squinted her blue eyes for a better look. Relief glazed over them almost instantly. “Jesus, you scared the crap out of us!”

"That wasn't very funny, Reid!" Dawn told him angrily.

"Yeah!" Justine chimed in. "We're all scared to death of what might happen tonight and you’re only making things worse!”

"Aw, come on! I only wanted to have a bit of fun." Reid propped the barre back up on the stage with one hand. The throbbing pain from the burn returned, and this time, it was as if it hadn't healed at all, creeping into his flesh and into the crevices of his muscles. "But I guess you're right. Wasn't my smartest idea, now was it?"

The dancers bashfully giggled in response, at an embarrassing loss for words.

A little while later, a jittery Simon and an already-exhausted Rebecca entered Auditorium 2 and gathered all the cast together on the stage. For a moment, the only sounds heard amongst them were rapid heartbeats formed from both the adrenaline before the "Places" call and the sheer terror of whatever cruel fates may lay in store at the end of the night. If they all died tonight, at least they’d be going down together, sacrificing themselves to the art form that practically charged their lives.

"Well..." Simon awkwardly adjusted his black coat and curled his lips into an 'O' shape as if to whistle, but remembering that whistling in the theatre empowered a longtime theatrical superstition, he quickly stopped himself. The play certainly didn't need any more curses put onto it tonight. "I can't believe we've actually made it to opening night, ladies and gentlemen. I know our production has been... _plagued_ by many downfalls and unfortunate situations, but tonight, we must push aside all our fears and devote ourselves entirely to the strange magic that only theatre can bring us. Tonight, as you're performing, I want you all to reflect on life and how passion ignites your soul and keeps you alive. In our current climate here in Carey, life will not last for long. Most of you are in your twenties. Some slightly younger, some even older. I hate that I have to mention—" He choked up on his words, fear ironically seizing him.

"Basically," Rebecca said, taking over, "Simon is trying to tell you that we should go out with a bang, not a whimper. We've all worked so hard on this damn play and we're not going to let Julian sabotage our efforts, whether or not he decides to creep on us tonight. This is our own war we fight against him.” She then raised her voice, tempting fate. “We're going to show him we're invincible to his fearmongering and terror! So, tell me guys, are we going to resign ourselves to mindless slaughter tonight?"

"No!" the cast chorused.

"And most importantly, are we going to pound his butthurt soul back into that damn demon's lantern?"

" _YEAH!_ "

"Rebecca, he's not going to like what you're saying..." Simon said nervously through clenched teeth.

"I don't care anymore, Simon!" Rebecca shouted, loud enough for all the spirits to hear. "We're not just going to stand around and wait for death! We're going to get our asses up there and—"

The lights of the auditorium flickered and sputtered in a repetitive pattern before powering out entirely, leaving the cast and the Directors stranded in the dark. The dancers wailed at the top of their lungs, crying and shrieking, "He's here, he's _really_ here!", while other cast members whispered obscenities under their breath and prayed that the power outage was only a result from the thunderstorm raging on outside and not the Phantom's interference.

"Rebecca!??!" Simon clang to Rebecca's arm like a frightened child scurrying toward their mother. "I told you not to say anything like that! Now I’m scared!”

"How about focusing on keeping your cast calm instead of being such a baby?!?" Rebecca shouted shrilly.

"What do you want me to do? Pull out a ukulele and start singing Kumbaya?"

Rebecca slapped a hand against her forehead and pushed Simon off of her. A thousand thoughts raced through her mind all at once, battling each other for what remained the most important. Should they cancel the show? Should they try resetting the breakers, if the Palace even had them? Or maybe, to really add the immersion feeling to the show, they should...

"That's it!" Rebecca snapped her fingers together. "We should perform the show with flashlights!"

"F-flashlights?" Simon stuttered.

"We don't have time to try and fix the power,” Rebecca explained, “but I know the breakroom has a ton of spare flashlights we could use as our own lighting system. It might throw off the blocking some, but I think it'll work! Segal!" She carefully worked her way across the stage, accidentally bumping into people and nearly stepping on someone’s hand in the process. “Wherever you are, can you be a doll and go fetch us about ten flashlights from the breakroom? Make sure they work!”

“Uh, sure, Rebecca.” Reid emerged from his spot, flicking the switch of his prop flashlight on. Ironically enough, it didn’t work. “Although I can’t see _anything_ at _all_ with this damn contact lens on. And _my_ flashlight’s broken!”

"Don't you have your phone on you, man?" Taylor asked him from a few feet away.

"Um... let me see." Reid slipped his hand into his blazer, pulled out his iPhone, and held his finger down on the power button, waiting for the cracked screen to glow. Nothing. "Damn! I know I charged it before I left my place!"

Rebecca groaned. “Steerington! Go with Segal and be his eyes. Don’t get yourselves killed!”

* * *

Reid and Taylor spent ten long minutes navigating the pitch-black auditorium and corridor before finally reaching the dimly lit lobby. Thankfully, light still lingered by the glass display case, brightening the Coca-Cola and Meetz Meats advertisements on the wall and the lamp in the popcorn machine. The breakroom door, however, still hid amidst the darkness, the doorknob and the tips of the black gate near it faintly visible in the slivers of light. Reid's heart sank into the pit of his stomach as he stared into the dark void beyond that gate, wondering what evils lurked deep within. All he knew was that the darkness led to Julian Browning's underground lair, that very place where Katharine sang until her throat went raw and her mind went hazy. He shuddered at the thought; he'd never want to be caught dead there.

"You okay, dude?" Taylor shook Reid out of his trance.

"Yeah, uh, I'm fine." Reid squinted his eyes at the perfectly readable concessions menu. "Figures, they've still got enough light for people to read the jacked-up popcorn prices."

Then, as if by some sort of magical means, the lights of the concession stand completely burnt out, too, leaving Reid and Taylor stranded in the dark once more.

"Jeez, looks like you spoke way too soon," Taylor said with a scoff. "Now we can't see shit again!"

"It's the Palace," Reid realized. "The theater's messing with us so the show can't go on!"

"Or maybe it's the Usher," Taylor suggested. "That old creep really knows how to scare the crap out of us."

“Perhaps I could assist you, boys?” A coquettish voiced woman stepped into the lobby with a source of light in her hands. The light distorted her gaunt face, only revealing blue, slightly sunken-in eyes, a wry smile, and the shadows of the circular-shaped hat she wore on her head.

“Oh… who’s this?” An impish smile spread on Taylor’s face. “Is it… _a sexy Usher babe?_ ”

Reid suppressed the urge to groan. _Taylor Steerington,_ he thought, _always objectifying women_ _as if he’s still a quarterback chasing after cheerleaders._

“Do you work here?” Reid then asked the mysterious woman.

She nodded silently. “I hear you’re looking for the breakroom. I happen to be heading there myself, actually. Come with me.”

Reid and Taylor followed the woman around the concession stand, using only the sound of her clicking heels to determine how close they were to the breakroom. Every once in a while, if he squinted hard enough, Reid caught hints of what the woman looked like and what she wore. A gray skirt, fishnet stockings, a burgundy blazer with puffy sleeves. Her sandy blonde hair was tied into a low ponytail, and the hat she wore had a glimmering gold ribbon circled around it. She hummed a familiar tune to herself… the beginning notes of “The Devil’s Love”, Evelyn’s most popular aria from _The Dark Chapter._

_Katharine’s song._

"Here we are." The two guys heard the woman jangle around a ring of keys around her wrist as she searched for the key to the breakroom. Once she found it, she inserted it into the lock, swiftly unlocking the door. "Odd. I wonder why it's been locked..."

“Aww, yeah! Thanks, babe!” Before he entered the breakroom, Taylor turned back to the woman, her face still partially concealed in shadow, and added, “Say, maybe I could get your number after the show? I’m always looking for another lovely lady to talk to—”

“ _Get in there._ ” The woman shoved Taylor inside the breakroom and quickly slammed the door in front of him, locking him in.

"Hey, what the hell?" Taylor steadily banged his fists into the door. "Let me outta here! This isn't funny! Look, if this is about the number thing, I totally get it! if you're taken, you could've just—oh, God!"

A pint-sized doll with wild orange hair slowly approached Taylor with a sharp knife in his small plastic hand, grinning from ear to ear. Behind him, a different doll, a puppet with a white face adorned with red spirals on his cheeks rose behind him on a red tricycle, staring at Taylor with his red-and-black eyes.

"Oh, no, no, no, no..." Taylor backed away from the two dolls, only to trip over his feet and fall to his knees on the floor. "I fucking _hate_ dolls! And I _especially_ hate Chucky!"

Billy, the puppet on the tricycle, stopped his pedaling, the wheel barely jamming into Taylor's foot. His white mouth opened and closed in rapid succession as he released his trademark devilish giggle that echoed across the breakroom so loudly that Taylor hoped Reid and the strange woman outside could hear it.

"N-no! This isn't real!" Taylor closed his eyes and slapped his hand across his cheek, trying to wake himself from the nightmare he currently starred in. When he opened his eyes back up, the dolls had only wandered closer to him. "For the love of God, _leave me alone!_ "

Chucky's plastic lips spread into a grin as he drew out his voodoo knife from his blue overalls and gestured it toward the cassette player Billy wore around his neck. Taylor knitted his brows together in confusion. Is this his own Saw trap? Would there be a way to win this game? Or maybe this was some kind of prank the cast and crew were playing on him before the show began. He mentioned to Lacey how much he hated horror movies, so much that he'd attend showings out of spite and loudly comment how horrible the special effects and acting were. He didn't even like movies to begin with, preferring to watch his vapid reality-tv shows about partying young adults and boisterous chefs in his spare time.

Desperate for answers, Taylor snatched the player off Billy's neck and jammed his thumb into the 'Play' button.

"Steven Brody - invited to the - September 6th - six bodies hanging - the Usher of the theater - oh God, what is that?! - _your eyes see but my shadow..._ "

The tape skipped, creating a frenetic chorus of voices that filled the room with an unsettling cacophony. Taylor, confused by what he heard, violently shook the cassette player in his hand, trying to make out the words, but to no avail. At the same time, the shadow of what appeared to be a hunched-over man with hair all over his body loomed over Taylor, his sharp claws ready to slash into his made-up face.

"W-what the..." Taylor slowly turned his head, startled by the oddly animalistic growl he heard behind him. The hairy sight that welcomed him to his upcoming demise proved to be much more frightening than the dolls, fangs bared and stained with blood. "OH GOD, WHAT THE FUCK?!"

From the other side of the door, Reid winced and cupped a hand over his mouth as heard something utterly indescribable occur to Taylor in the breakroom. Taylor's body slammed against the door, startling Reid away from it, as whatever mysterious, terrifying beast behind the door ripped Taylor's body to shreds, slicing and dicing its way to a bloody resolution.

"W-what's going on in there?" Reid asked the mysterious woman, struck by pure horror.

“None of your concern," the woman intoned coldly. Then, she grabbed Reid's arm, dragging him close to her. "The boss has plans for _you_ tonight, too. He doesn't want you in the way of his precious little Katharine, oh no.” She sighed in disgust. “I don’t even know what he sees in her, anyway. She’s just a weak mortal girl—"

"Have we dealt with the deadbeat in our plan, Roxanne?" Another beam of light emerged from the dark lobby, and with it came a cold burst of air and a faint stench of death. The light hovered over a man’s face, revealing a colorless, hazy eye that glared in Reid’s direction.

Reid’s heart nearly dropped in his stomach. _Julian._

“Wolfman’s already at him, boss,” the woman – Roxanne – told Julian a smile, gesturing toward the chaos ensuing behind the breakroom door. “Well, that idiot who Peter caught in the restroom having intercourse with that dancer girl, anyway. I haven’t gotten around to dealing with Loverboy over here yet.”

“I’ll take it from here. Go assist Peter with the backstage traps, if you would.”

“Of course, boss.” Roxanne batted her eyelashes and made her way upstairs toward Auditorium 3.

"Why are you doing this, Julian?" Reid asked him defiantly, taking a step closer to his undead reflection. The Usher didn't answer, merely smirking. They both knew the answer; no one needed to confess. "I just want you to know that everything you've done has been absolutely useless. Katharine will never love an undead freak like you, and she never will!"

Julian chuckled bitterly. "I should’ve known that’s all you can twist out of the little spine you’ve got.” He violently grabbed Reid by his neck with a grunt, knocking the hat off the actor’s head and wrapping his arm around his throat to restrict his breathing.

Reid pummeled his fists into Julian's chest, fighting for freedom, even as he felt himself be dragged by his heels out of the lobby and past the black gate guarding a world of unending night. Unlike what Kristen advised him, he didn't have any weapons at his disposal. He'd never even fought against the undead before, let alone the very revenant that personally threatened his life. How would he protect Katharine from Julian now? How would he stop the Usher’s reign of terror over the both of them?

_What was he going to do?_


End file.
